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The  proud  buck  with  his  large  prong 
horns  had  claimed  her  for  his  own" 


Four-Footed 
Trails 


Wild  Animals  of  the  Plains  as 
I  Knew  Them 

by  Ruth  A.  Cook 

Formerly  Assistant  in  charge  of  Nature  Work  at  the 

Children's  Museum  of  the  Brooklyn  Institute 

of  Arts  and  Sciences 

With  Illustrations  by 
Mabel  Williamson 


New  York 

James  Pott  &  Company 
1903 


Copyright  Ipoj  by 
James  Pott  £sf  Company 

Published  September  1903 


The  Heintzemann  Press^  Boston 


BIOLOGY 
LIBRA- 


TO 

The  Memory  of  My  Mother 


M6G7755 


Contents 

Bruno,  My  Pet  Coyote 

"Prong-horns,"  The  Antelope  of  the  Plains 

Sam  Dempster  and  the  Prarie-Dog  Town 

White-Jack  and  Her  Companions 

Wild  Ponies  of  the  Plains 

Buffaloes 

The  Muskrat  and  its  Home  as  Joe  and  I 

Knew  Them 

The  Beavers  of  Beaver  Creek 
Mongola  and  His  Two  Brothers 
Prairie  Pocket-Gophers 
Field  Mice 


13 

34 

5i 
69 

88 

112 

138 


184 

204 

222 


Ella  and  the  Rocky  Mountain  Grasshoppers    246 


[7] 


List  of  I/lustrations 

"  The  -proud  buck  with  his  large  prong-horns 
had  claimed  her  for  his  own"  Frontispiece 

"  One  old  hen  ventured  closer  and  closer  .  .  . 
when  quicker  than  a  flash  the  coyote  sprang 
upon  her"  19 

"  She  limped  toward  him  to  the  limit  of  her 
chain"  23 

"  The  c  Mayor  .  .  .  was  generally  to  be  seen 
sitting  upon  the  largest  hillock  in  the  town"  53 

"  The  coyote  drew  nearer  and  with  one  leap 
sprang  at  White-Jack  "  81 

"  With  the  black  mare  beside  him>  the  stallion 
often  ran  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  would 
stand  with  his  proud  head  held  high  and 
scan  the  prairie  in  every  direction"  91 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"As  he  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  deep  Gap  with 
his  head  lowered  in  his  last  ( stand '  for 
life"  133 

"  As  soon  as  it  would  hold  the  weight  of  a 
muskraty  one  mounted  the  platform  "  147 

"  The  dam  now  began  to  take  on  a  substantial 
aspect"  169 

"He  walked  toward  her,  his  bushy  tail  held 
up"  199 

"  If  h  accident  they  chanced  to  meet  their 
only  recognition  was  to  angrily  spring  at 
each  other  and  bite  "  209 

"Aunt  told  me  they  were  the  runways  of  a 
family  of  field  mice  "  227 

"  The  golden  grain  in  the  adjoining  wheat- 
field  sheltered  her  from  the  burning  sun  as 
she  sat  and  watched  the  ground-squirrels"  249 


[10] 


PRELIMINARY  WORDS 

THE  facts  of  nature  are  not  limited  by 
geographical  boundaries ;  their  inter- 
pretation is  not  the  property  of  any  cult. 
The  East  and  the  West  grade  into  each  so  in- 
sensibly that  the  Occident  is  reached  ere  one 
has  removed  the  Orient's  dust  from  his  feet. 
The  birds,  the  beasts,  the  plants  appear  to  have 
much  in  common,  and  really  do  have,  unless 
one  compares  the  extremes.  So  the  traveler 
from  Massachusetts  and  Ohio  will  see  much 
that  is  familiar  in  Nebraska  or  Dakota  as  he  is 
whirled  along  in  comfort  and  pleasure. 

It  was  not  always  thus.  Earlier,  in  my  girl- 
hood days,  animals  were  daily,  even  hourly,  seen 
that  are  now  almost  things  of  the  past  —  rare 
and  little  known.  They  first  were  seen  from 
the  doors  of  our  "dugout,"  that  rude  sort  of 
sod-house,  half  cave,  half  house,  which  in  these 
later  days  has  been  replaced  by  palatial  homes. 
They  became  familiar  objects  to  the  little  west- 
ern girl  who  had  no  playmates  save  those  which 


PRELIMINARY  WORDS 

nature  furnished  her.  More  than  familiarity 
grew  out  of  our  relationship.  I  learned  to  love 
those  curious,  or  queer,  or  cunning  animals;  and 
with  that  love  came  a  measure  of  sympathy 
which  still  survives.  They  were  often  my  sole 
companions — save  my  thoughts — in  long  rides 
over  treeless,  rolling  plains.  I  gathered  a  cer- 
tain sort  of  information  as  to  their  ways,  their 
lives,  their  enemies,  their  dangers.  In  the  fol- 
lowing sketches,  in  as  simple  a  way  as  possible, 
I  have  sought  to  record  facts  and  impressions 
— albeit  they  have  a  certain  human  tinge  to 
them  —  that  grew  on  me  as  the  years  passed  on 
and  I  became  a  woman.  They  are  offered  you, 
my  reader,  in  the  sincere  hope  that  hours  thus 
made  bright  to  me  may  still  find  a  work  that 
makes  for  betterment  in  the  lives  of  others. 

Acknowledgment  is  due  to  several  friends 
and  is  heartily  rendered  for  valuable  services 
freely  given.  To  Dr.  R.  Ellsworth  Call,  A.M., 
M.Sc.,  Ph.D.,  Curator  of  the  Children's  Mu- 
seum, and  to  Miss  Mabel  Williamson,  whose 
illustrations  have  sympathetically  caught  the 
spirit  of  my  stories,  special  thanks  are  tendered. 

R.  A.  C. 

Brooklyn.,  New  Tork,  June  10,  1903. 


[12] 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

I'VE  got  'em,  Lawrence  !     Jolly,  there  's  two 
more !     Ain't  you  got  her  most  skinned  ? 
Keep  your  gun  ready  !     Her  mate  is  liable 
to  come  back  any  minnit."     These  were  the 
words  of  a  neighbor  boy  that  rang  out  on  the 
clear,  light  atmosphere  of  the  plains  and  greet- 
ed my  ears,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  while  rid- 
ing my  pony  over  the  divide.     My  dog  was 
trotting  along  behind  to  see  if  the  cows  had 
strayed  from  their  usual  feeding-ground. 

I  headed  my  pony  in  the  direction  whence 
the  boys'  voices  came.  In  a  short  time  I  had 
ridden  down  the  canon's  side  and  they  were 
in  full  view.  They  had  found  a  coyote's  den 
containing  three  little  pups.  Lawrence,  the 
elder  brother,  had  killed  the  female  coyote  and 
skinned  her,  while  his  brother  took  charge  of 

C«s] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

the  litter.  He  was  about  to  strike  the  last  one 
when  I  begged  him  not  to  kill  the  little  woolly 
thing  but  to  give  it  to  me.  Lawrence  said  he 
would  carry  it  home  for  me  if  his  brother  would 
carry  the  mother's  pelt.  With  my  arms  and 
apron  full  of  flowers  I  slid  forward  on  the  shoul- 
ders and  neck  of  my  pony  and  invited  the  boys 
to  ride  with  me.  Lawrence,  with  the  pup  under 
his  arm,  mounted  first,  then  his  brother,  with 
the  pelt  thrown  over  his  back,  climbed  up  be- 
hind ;  and  the  pony,  with  his  three  passengers, 
started  homeward  on  a  slow  trot  through  the 
canon  and  over  the  divide. 

On  arrival,  the  boys  helped  me  to  dig  a  hole 
in  the  side  of  a  small  mound  of  dirt  and  in  it 
we  placed  a  wooden  shoe-box.  In  its  side  they 
cut  a  hole  for  an  entrance  and  the  lidless  top 
was  turned  downward.  This  allowed  the  pup  to 
dig  under  her  wooden  home,  if  she  chose.  We 
found  a  broad,  thick  strap  to  serve  as  a  collar 
and  a  steel  chain.  With  these  the  pup  was  se- 
curely fastened,  named  Bruno  and  introduced 
to  her  new  home. 

Bruno  was  nearly  a  foot  long,  with  a  straight 
bushy  tail  and  an  abundance  of  thick,  brownish, 
[H] 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

red  hair,  which  covered  her  loose  skin.  She 
had  a  head  like  a  fox.  Her  nose  was  sharp- 
pointed  and  her  eyes  were  yellow,  bordered  with 
black  eyelids. 

She  was  very  shy  at  first  and  remained  in  her 
house,  half  covered  with  dirt,  for  hours  at  a  time, 
without  ever  noticing  me  or  the  food  I  placed 
in  front  of  her  kennel  for  her.  When  I  would 
try  to  pull  her  out  by  the  chain  she  would  growl 
and  snap  at  me.  In  a  short  time,  however,  she 
learned  to  know  that  I  loved  her,  for  animals 
know  as  well  as  human  beings  when  they  are 
truly  loved.  It  was  not  long  before  she  would 
come  out  of  her  kennel  and  jump  and  pull  at  her 
chain  as  soon  as  she  heard  my  voice  or  noticed 
my  footsteps. 

The  State  was  paying  two  cents  each  for 
gophers'  pelts.  I  owned  six  steel  traps,  pur- 
chased with  money  I  had  earned  the  year  be- 
fore, selling  radishes,  onions,  and  bouquets  of 
wild  flowers  to  people  in  the  hotel  of  the  county 
seat,  a  small  town  some  six  miles  away.  I  set 
these  traps  at  night,  baited  with  corn  and  placed 
them  in  the  great  cornfields  around  our  home. 
In  the  morning  I  found  three  dead  gophers,  two 
['5] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

traps  sprung,  and  one  trap  with  the  bait  still 
on  it.  I  skinned  the  three  gophers  and  the 
bounty  they  represented  was  six  cents  more  to- 
ward the  purchase  of  my  winter  shoes,  with 
enough  breakfast  for  Bruno  and  my  dog.  Bru- 
no was  fed  with  milk,  scraps  from  the  table  and 
grasshoppers,  as  well  as  the  bodies  of  the  trapped 
gophers,  but  the  fresh,  wild  meat  she  seemed  to 
enjoy  most. 

There  was  plenty  of  rain  that  summer  and  no 
hot  winds  or  grasshopper  plague ;  the  farmers 
prospered  and  all  wild  animals  found  abundant 
food.  Bruno  grew  large  and  was  very  tame. 
One  day  my  mother  noticed  some  feathers 
around  the  coyote's  kennel  and  told  me  she 
feared  Bruno  was  killing  her  hens,  since  two 
were  missing;  so  we  watched. 

One  day,  late  in  August,  mother  and  I  were 
sitting  behind  the  plum  thicket,  near  our  house, 
from  which  point  of  vantage  we  could  see  the 
coyote  but  were  not  seen  by  her.  My  mother 
was  telling  me  of  some  scenes  of  her  own  child- 
hood when  our  attention  was  drawn  to  Bruno. 
She  was  pulling  at  her  chain,  scratching  and 
drawing  something  towards  her  with  her  front 
[16] 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

paws.  Investigation  showed  that  when  I  fed 
my  pony  some  ears  of  corn  for  his  dinner  some 
kernels  had  dropped  from  the  cobs  into  the 
dirt  and  these  the  coyote  was  trying  to  collect. 
I  was  sure  that  my  pet  was  not  hungry  enough 
to  eat  such  food,  so  we  watched  silently  to  dis- 
cover what  she  intended  to  do.  And  this  is 
what  we  saw :  After  she  had  scattered  the  ker- 
nels about  her  and  some  near  the  entrance  to 
the  kennel,  she  lay  down  and  shut  her  eyes  as 
though  asleep.  A  number  of  chickens  were 
strutting  about,  finding  here  and  there  a  dainty 
kernel  of  corn,  but  they  seemed  wary  and  for 
some  time  did  not  venture  near ;  rinding,  how- 
ever that  the  reddish  brown  object  did  not 
move  one  old  hen  ventured  closer  and  closer, 
picking  up  the  grains  of  corn,  until  she  reached 
the  entrance  of  the  kennel,  when  quicker  than 
a  flash  the  coyote  sprang  upon  her  and  in  a  mo- 
ment the  hen  was  torn  to  pieces  and  nearly  de- 
voured. What  had  become  of  our  lost  chickens 
was  now  quite  clear  and  mother  declared  the 
coyote  must  be  killed.  I  begged  her  not  to  be 
so  angry  with  poor  Bruno,  for  did  not  we  love 
a  well  cooked  chicken  ?  Why  then  should  we 
['7] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

blame  the  poor  brute  ?  After  much  coaxing, 
plentifully  mingled  with  tears,  it  was  agreed  that 
Bruno  should  be  spared  if  her  kennel  was  placed 
farther  away  from  the  hen-house.  Consequently 
it  was  moved  about  forty  rods. 

At  night,  in  the  fall  months,  Bruno  heard 
the  coyotes  howling  in  the  distance ;  she,  too, 
began  to  howl  at  sunset  and  at  intervals  during 
the  night.  Our  nearest  neighbor,  who  did  not 
appreciate  these  nightly  concerts,  finally  de- 
clared that  he  would  shoot  the  wolf  if  my 
father  did  not.  But  Bruno  lived  on  all  un- 
conscious of  these  threats  and  sang  her  nightly 
song  as  before. 

One  cold  night  in  November,  I  shall  never 
forget  it,  I  awoke  at  the  sharp  report  of  a  gun, 
followed  by  three  loud  yelps,  then  two  muffled 
ones  from  the  direction  of  Bruno's  kennel.  I 
knew  my  pet  had  been  shot  and  I  feared  that 
she  was  dead.  I  was  so  angry  at  our  neighbor 
that  I  could  not  sleep.  I  thought  of  all  the  spite- 
ful things  I  should  do  and  say  when  I  grew  older. 
I  thought  for  the  present  that  I  could  forget  to 
bring  his  cow  and  her  calf  home  with  the  rest ; 
that  would  make  him  trouble  even  if  the  wolves 
[18.] 


One  old  hen  ventured  closer  and  closer  .  .  .  when 
than  a  flash  the  coyote  sprang  upon  her" 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

did  not  get  the  calf.  Then,  precious  memory, 
there  came  to  my  mind  the  wise  counsels  of  my 
mother.  I  remembered  how  she  told  me  that 
I  would  hurt  myself  most  by  letting  bitter 
thoughts  enter  my  mind,  that  they  would  de- 
termine so  much  of  my  life  as  to  affect  my 
character.  Then  I  looked  out  of  the  little  win- 
dow at  the  clear  blue  sky  sprinkled  with  stars 
where  the  bright  light  of  a  full  moon  did  not 
hide  them,  and  kinder  thoughts  came  into  my 
heart.  I  forgave  the  man  and  breathed  a  prayer 
that  my  poor  coyote  might  not  die.  Then  I 
shut  my  eyes,  believing  my  prayer  would  be 
answered  and  fell  into  a  sweet  sleep. 

Early  in  the  following  morning  I  ran  down 
the  hill  to  the  kennel  of  poor  Bruno.  At  the 
sound  of  my  footsteps  on  the  frozen  ground  she 
came  out  of  her  kennel.  She  was  alive  !  but 
she  walked  on  three  feet  and  her  right  hind  leg 
was  all  covered  with  blood.  I  patted  her  neck 
and  talked  to  her  while  she  laid  her  head  on 
my  arm ;  when  I  bent  over  her,  she  whined, 
reached  up  her  head  to  my  face  and  licked  my 
cheek  in  the  most  eloquent  way.  How  I  loved 
her !  More  than  all  my  other  animal  pets,  for 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

I  felt  that  she  and  her  wild  relatives  were  friend- 
less and  despised.  I  examined  the  wound 
which  the  cruel  bullets  had  made,  tenderly 
washed  and  dressed  it  and  left  the  result  to  na- 
ture. In  a  few  weeks  she  was  well,  but  the 
muscles  of  her  leg  had  been  so  badly  torn  that 
she  limped  for  the  remainder  of  her  life. 

One  evening,  just  at  sunset,  I  noticed  a  large 
coyote  on  a  hill  half  a  mile  away.  While  I 
watched  him  he  raised  his  long,  pointed  nose 
towards  the  heavens  and  howled  as  only  a 
coyote  can  howl.  Then  he  sneaked  a  little 
nearer  between  the  bunch-grass  tufts,  stopped, 
sat  down  in  wolf  fashion  and  looked  down  at 
my  Bruno.  At  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  she 
raised  her  pointed  ears  and  the  long  hairs  of  her 
loose  shaggy  mane  stood  straight  out.  She 
limped  towards  him  to  the  limit  of  her  chain. 
Seemingly  in  deep  thought  she  stood  for  a 
minute  or  two,  looked  up  the  hill  at  the 
stranger,  raised  her  head  and  howled.  The 
stranger  coyote  then  crept  closer  and  howled 
again.  This  was  repeated  several  times  until  I 
put  an  end  to  their  courtship  by  shutting  Bruno 
in  her  kennel  for  the  night  as  had  been  my  cus- 


She  limped  toward  him 
to  the  limit  of  her  chain  " 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

torn  since  she  had  been  shot.  The  big  prairie 
wolf  sneaked  away  with  his  ears  hanging  down 
like  fringed  pointed  flaps  and  his  tail  drawn  in 
between  his  legs.  In  this  way  he  would  trot  a 
few  rods  at  a  time,  squat  on  his  lean  haunches, 
lift  up  his  ears,  look  back  and  again  repeat  this 
performance  until  he  reached  the  summit  of  the 
hill.  Then  he  gave  one  long,  continuous  howl, 
dismal  in  its  length  and  cadence,  and  disap- 
peared. He  was  a  very  large  coyote,  with  a 
long,  lean  body,  short  appearing  legs,  straight 
bushy  tail,  loose  skin  covered  with  long  tawny 
brown  hair,  with  an  occasional  white  or  black 
one,  and  under  parts  a  dirty  white.  His  ears 
stood  up  straight  and  pointed  when  on  the  alert 
and  his  bright  yellow  eyes  looked  like  two  coals 
of  fire  after  dark.  His  manner  was  sneaking 
but  determined.  Such  was  the  appearance  and 
character  of  the  stranger  wolf  which  came  night 
after  night  to  court  gentle,  lame,  little  Bruno. 

The  third  night  the  stranger  made  bold  to 
come  down  the  hill,  jump  over  the  cornstalk 
fence  which  the  boys  had  helped  me  to  build 
around  Bruno's  kennel  and,  wagging  his  tail  in 
a  most  friendly  manner,  walked  up  to  Bruno 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

and  touched  her  nose  with  his.  This  was  their 
introduction.  Then  they  talked  to  each  other 
in  wolf  language,  by  little  low  barks  and  whines, 
as  well  as  by  touch  and  smell.  This  was  re- 
peated night  after  night  for  nearly  three  weeks 
but  seemed  to  have  been  only  a  preparation  for 
another  episode.  One  evening  in  early  March 
the  strange  coyote  sneaked  through  the  grass 
and  over  the  fence  earlier  than  usual.  Finding 
Bruno,  he  gnawed  the  strap  from  her  neck  and 
led  her  away,  unchained  and  free.  The  sun 
had  just  sunk  down  below  the  western  horizon, 
leaving  a  deep  and  beautiful  red  border,  which 
tinted  the  whole  heaven  where  earth  and  sky 
seemed  to  meet.  It  was  while  enjoying  this 
beautiful  sunset  that  1  had  noticed  the  large 
coyote  trotting  up  the  hill  with  my  little  Bruno 
limping  along  close  by  his  side.  I  ran  to  the 
kennel ;  there  was  the  chain  and  the  torn  strap. 
My  little  coyote  was  gone.  She  had  left  of  her 
own  free  will  to  enter  upon  the  wild  life  for 
which  she  was  intended.  Perhaps  she  would 
be  happier  with  a  mate.  I  loved  her  and  would 
be  lonesome  without  her  but  should  she  be 
happier  I  would  be  content.  I  was  aroused 
[.6] 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

from  my  thoughts  when  they  both  howled  a 
farewell  from  the  summit  of  the  hill.  The 
beautiful  red  reflection  in  the  heavens  seemed 
to  wave  a  triumphant  welcome  to  the  little  coy- 
ote as  she  gave  a  short,  quick  bark,  followed  by 
several  others  in  rapid  succession  and  ending  in 
a  long,  continuous  howl.  Her  mate  did  the 
same.  Then  they  both  howled  together.  That 
ringing,  penetrating  howl,  not  altogether  musi- 
cal, echoed  and  re-echoed  from  hilltop  to  hilltop, 
until  it  seemed  to  me  there  must  have  been  at 
least  five  hundred  coyotes  rejoicing  together  at 
the  liberty  and  love  of  one  little  cripple,  instead 
of  only  the  two  singing  their  evening  love-song. 
Some  months  passed.  I  gave  up  the  thought 
of  ever  seeing  my  pet  coyote  again.  One  after- 
noon, however,  while  tramping  over  the  prairie 
to  a  neighbor's  to  exchange  a  setting  of  eggs  for 
my  mother,  I  noticed  down  near  the  canon  a  coy- 
ote galloping  along  with  a  curious  limp  which  I 
recognized  as  Bruno's.  I  placed  my  basket  of 
eggs  beside  a  bunch  of  Buffalo  grass  and  ran 
up  the  hill  to  a  point  where  I  could  see  the 
country  for  a  long  distance  around  to  learn,  if 
possible,  where  the  new  home  of  my  former  pet 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

might  be  and  to  discover  what  she  was  after. 
But  a  few  rods  ahead  of  her  I  saw  a  jack-rabbit 
making  tremendous  leaps  in  the  hope  of  escap- 
ing his  most  dreaded  enemy,  for  the  coyotes  and 
the  jack-rabbits  have  been  at  eternal  enmity 
ever  since  nature  put  them  together  on  the 
western  plains.  As  Bruno  neared  a  clump  of 
sage-b/ush,  I  saw  her  mate,  the  great  coyote, 
was  waiting  to  relieve  her.  He  sprang  forward 
with  long  leaps  in  pursuit  of  the  unfortunate 
rabbit.  Bruno  stopped,  sat  on  her  haunches 
and  rested.  It  was  not  long  before  the  coyote 
had  headed  the  rabbit  and  turned  it  back  to- 
wards his  mate.  Bruno  was  now  ready  to  take 
up  the  chase  anew.  In  a  few  leaps  she  sprang 
upon  the  tired  beast,  grasped  its  neck  in  her 
sharp  teeth  and  thus  held  in  a  deadly  grasp  the 
family  dinner  for  that  day.  With  the  big  coy- 
ote by  her  side  she  limped  proudly  to  a  hole  in 
the  hillside.  Here  was  her  home.  Unnoticed, 
I  lay  on  the  ground,  the  direction  of  the  wind 
favoring  my  complete  secretion,  for  these  ani- 
mals find  food  and  discover  their  enemies  largely 
by  the  sense  of  smell.  When  Bruno  neared 
the  entrance  of  the  den  three  pups  came  out, 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

sprang  at  the  rabbit,  jerked  it  unceremoniously 
from  the  mother's  mouth  and  with  furious 
snarls  and  many  growls  tore  it  to  pieces.  The 
parent  coyotes  lay  quietly  in  the  warm  sunshine 
and  proudly  watched  them.  After  this,  having 
discovered  the  home  of  my  pet,  I  often  carried 
gophers  in  my  traps  and  dropped  their  bodies 
near  the  coyote's  den  where  I  was  sure  they 
would  be  found. 

The  summer  wore  on  ;  the  fields  were  green 
and  so  beautiful.  The  farmers  were  hopeful  of 
another  prosperous  year.  All  unexpectedly  there 
came  a  hot  wind  and  sand-storm.  In  a  few 
hours  the  green  fields  of  corn,  the  grass,  and  the 
very  plants  of  the  prairie  itself  were  brown  and 
withered  by  the  scorching  wind.  The  tame 
cattle  as  well  as  the  wild  vegetable-feeding  ani- 
mals were  deprived  of  much  of  their  fall  and 
winter  food.  The  severe  winter  set  in  early. 
On  the  morning  of  the  i6th  of  November  a 
characteristic  snowstorm  came  ;•  the  white  flakes 
fell  thick  and  fast  all  that  day  and  night.  In 
the  morning  it  was  clear,  calm  and  cold  !  The 
whole  earth  was  covered  with  a  mantle  of  white 
which  sparkled  in  the  bright  sunshine  like  count- 
['9] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

less  millions  of  mimic  diamonds.  By  noon  the 
gray  clouds  rolled  up  in  front  of  the  sun  ;  a  cold 
northwest  wind  swept  through  the  canon  and 
over  the  divide,  carrying  great  masses  of  the 
loose,  newly  fallen  snow  before  it.  One  could 
scarcely  see  a  yard's  distance.  The  storm  raged 
long,  then  calmed,  only  to  rage  again.  This 
continued  for  three  days  and  nights.  Many 
cattle  and  wild  animals  perish  of  cold  and  hun- 
ger from  these  storms.  When  the  three  days' 
storm  had  spent  its  fury,  how  beautiful  it  all 
seemed !  It  was  clear  and  cold,  a  full  moon 
bathed  the  earth  with  a  silver  light  and  one 
could  see  almost  as  well  as  by  day.  In  the 
comfort  of  the  warm  fire  of  my  home  I  sat  and 
thought.  Of  course,  I  thought  of  Bruno. 
How  many  times  I  had  laid  my  head  against 
her  shaggy  mane  and  told  her  of  my  childish 
troubles  —  as  though  she  could  understand  and 
sympathize  with  me  !  Hark  !  Was  I  dream- 
ing ?  Surely  that  was  a  coyote's  bark  !  It  was 
a  long  way  off  and  yet  again  and  again  I  heard 
it ;  it  came  nearer  and  still  nearer.  I  left  the 
fire  and  went  to  the  window.  Down  the  hill 
were  coming  two  coyotes,  a  large  one  and  a 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

small  one.  They  reached  the  spot  where  Bru- 
no's kennel  had  been  and  stopped.  They  smelt 
of  the  posts  which  stood  where  the  boys  had 
helped  me  to  build  the  cornstalk  fence.  The 
larger  coyote  rubbed  against  the  posts  while  the 
smaller  one  limped  a  few  feet  away,  raised  her 
head  and  howled.  It  was  Bruno,  my  dear  pet 
Bruno  !  Hunger  had  driven  her  and  her  mate 
back  to  her  old  home  where  she  had  always  had 
abundance  of  food.  I  now  had  a  new  occupa- 
tion, a  new  problem.  I  must  feed  the  poor 
beasts,  but  how?  Mother  said  we  should  not 
feed  them  because  there  were  many  poor  people 
who  would  need  all  we  could  possibly  spare. 
Indeed,  we  had  little  for  ourselves.  I  pressed 
my  face  against  the  cold  window-pane  and 
watched  Bruno  as  she  limped  closer  and  closer 
to  the  house,  with  her  mate  sneaking  behind 
her.  She  looked  so  thin  and  hungry.  I  could 
think  of  nothing  but  my  love  for  the  poor  brute 
and  her  extremity  !  I  suddenly  seized  a  piece 
of  bacon  which  hung  on  a  hook  near  the  win- 
dow, opened  the  door  and  threw  it  to  the  coy- 
otes. Then  turning  to  my  angry  parents  I  said 
between  sobs,  "  I  will  not  eat  any  meat  for  a 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

whole  week.  I  have  given  my  portion  to  the 
coyotes!" 

Late  in  the  spring  one  of  our  cows  came  home 
without  her  calf,  heated,  excited  and  with  blood 
on  her  horns.  The  coyotes  had  killed  a  num- 
ber of  calves  in  the  neighborhood  and  ours  had 
probably  met  the  same  fate.  And  now  the 
farmers  took  a  hand  in  the  affair  and  poisoned 
meat  was  placed  along  the  coyote  trails  over  the 
prairie.  A  few  days  later  I  was  riding  my  pony 
over  the  hill  when  I  saw  a  coyote  struggling  on 
the  ground  with  froth  at  her  mouth.  It  was 
Bruno.  She  was  dying  from  arsenical  poison- 
ing. I  leaped  from  my  pony  just  as  she  died. 
A  stray  stone  was  rolled  close  to  her  and  some 
cornstalks  were  gathered  and  placed  over  her. 
Then  mounting  my  pony  again  I  rode  quickly 
to  impart  the  news  of  Bruno's  death  to  Law- 
rence and  to  get  his  assistance  in  skinning  her. 

Twelve  years  passed.  I  had  my  pets  during 
that  period,  but  none  ever  took  the  place  of 
Bruno.  I  then  lived  in  a  large  western  city. 
Often  at  night,  when  tired  from  the  day's  work, 
I  would  throw  myself  on  the  library  floor  and 
with  the  dear  old  coyote's  skin  for  my  pillow 


BRUNO,  MY  PET  COYOTE 

would  fall  asleep  and  dream  of  the  old  days  on 
the  prairie.  I  heard  again  the  howl  of  the  coy- 
ote, the  prairie  chicken  drum  for  his  mate  and 
the  echo  from  hill  to  hill,  like  the  noise  of  a 
distant  cannon. 

I  lived  again  the  old,  wild,  care-free  days  of 
youth,  only  to  wake  with  a  start  and  to  realize 
that  it  was  all  a  dream.  That  I  must  read  over 
the  pile  of  business  letters  and  see  nothing  but 
rows  and  rows  of  brick  and  mortar.  How  dif- 
ferent it  all  was  from  the  great  stretches  of  green 
prairie,  the  wide  breadth  of  horizon,  the  pano- 
rama of  clouds,  the  merry  whistle  of  the  western 
winds,  the  songs  of  birds,  even  if  they  were  only 
conjured  up  in  dreams. 


[33] 


PRONG-HORNS 

JUST  at  daybreak  one  beautiful  morning  in 
the  latter  part  of  May,  I  rode  over  a  divide, 
headed  for  a  nearby  canon,  in  search  of  our 
cattle  that  had  strayed  away  during  the  night. 
The  bright  stars  paled  and  the  new  moon  was 
lost  to  view.     The  reflection  of  the  sun  against 
the  clear  blue  sky  tinted  the  east  with  gorgeous 
reds  and  purples,  long  before  it  rose  above  the 
hills  in  the  distance. 

I  had  been  riding  along  slowly  for  some  time, 
on  my  return  home,  when  my  pony  pricked  up 
his  ears  and  my  dog  was  all  attention,  as  distant 
repeated  reports  of  a  gun  rolled  across  the 
prairie  through  the  clear  atmosphere.  Pres- 
ently there  appeared  on  the  ridge  a  mile  away 
a  number  of  antelope  flashing  the  white  patches 
on  their  rumps  so  that  they  glistened  in  the 
[34] 


PRONG-HORNS 

sunlight  like  bright  pieces  of  tin.  On  a  knoll 
a  half  mile  distant  appeared  a  man  on  horseback. 
In  a  moment  the  antelope  were  joined  by  sev- 
eral others  who  came  from  the  direction  in  which 
the  man  was  riding.  One  of  the  new-comers 
had  left  her  companions  and  was  headed  toward 
the  elevation  from  which  I  was  watching  them. 
The  hunter  did  not  notice  her  as  she  leaped 
over  the  rolling  prairie,  leaving  the  slight  hill 
upon  which  her  frightened  companions  stood 
pawing  the  earth  between  herself  and  her  enemy. 
The  remainder  of  the  herd  turned  their  heads 
in  the  direction  of  the  hunter  and  snorted. 
Then  they  fairly  flew  over  the  prairie  as  they 
ran  off  at  top  speed.  One  took  the  lead  and 
the  others  followed  in  single  file. 

The  hunter  galloped  across  the  divide,  keep- 
ing out  of  sight  of  the  antelope  as  much  as 
possible.  He  knew  the  animals  would  be  loath 
to  leave  the  straight  course  they  had  decided 
upon  in  order  to  reach  a  more  open  and  favored 
stretch  of  the  prairie.  If  he  could  intercept 
them  by  taking  a  shorter  route  he  was  quite 
certain  of  bagging  at  least  one. 

The  lone  doe  came  on  and  on  with  great  leaps ; 
[35] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

her  long,  slender  legs  scarcely  seemed  to  touch 
the  earth  as  she  bounded  forward  with  lightness, 
speed  and  a  regular  gait.  The  frenzied  animal 
passed  within  a  few  feet  of  me  but  did  not  seem 
to  notice  my  presence.  As  she  drew  near  I 
could  see  her  great  black  eyes,  large  open  nos- 
trils, and  little  horns  raised  up  a  few  inches  from 
her  head  in  front  of  two  pointed  ears  covered 
with  hair.  I  was  struck  with  awe  and  pity  as  I 
noticed  her  thin  panting  sides  and  the  blood 
trickling  from  her  right  shoulder.  I  knew  the 
hunter  had  mortally  wounded  the  beautiful  ani- 
mal, as  I  could  see  she  was  rapidly  losing  her 
speed  and  strength. 

The  small  herd  of  antelope  and  the  hunter 
disappeared  together  behind  a  slight  elevation 
on  the  prairie  shortly  after  the  poor  wounded 
doe  dropped  on  the  ground  in  a  little  hollow, 
just  back  from  the  entrance  to  the  canon  and  a 
short  distance  from  a  spring  that  helped  to  feed 
the  nearby  stream. 

Only  female  antelope  and  perchance  the  young 
of  the  previous  season  are  found  in  company  at 
this  time  of  year.  The  does  leave  their  lordly 
masters  in  March  or  early  April  and  seek  quiet, 

[36] 


PRONG-HORNS 

secluded  places  for  their  young.  Each  buck 
goes  off  to  some  out  of  the  way  place  for  the 
purpose  of  shedding  his  horns.  The  family 
consists  of  one  or  two  fawns,  usually  two,  which 
are  born  in  the  latter  part  of  May  or  the  first 
of  June.  No  true  sportsman  or  honest  think- 
ing person  will  ever  kill  a  doe  at  this  time  of 
year. 

I  turned  my  pony  in  the  direction  of  the  doe 
and  rode  slowly  to  the  spot  where  she  lay. 
Near  her,  partly  covered  with  the  long  over- 
hanging grass,  were  two  fawns  of  a  uniform  dun 
color.  They  were  so  near  the  color  of  their 
surroundings  that  one  could  scarcely  see  them 
as  they  lay  with  their  legs  doubled  up  under 
them  and  their  necks  stretched  out  with  their 
heads  flat  on  the  ground.  As  I  dismounted  the 
mother  looked  up  at  me  and  in  her  large  black 
eyes  was  a  pleading  expression  that  was  almost 
human.  She  tried  to  get  upon  her  feet  but  was 
too  weak.  I  took  one  of  the  fawns  in  my  arms. 
He  was  scarcely  as  large  as  a  jack-rabbit.  I 
held  him  close  and  stroked  his  coarse  hair  and 
felt  of  the  two  small  bumps  on  his  head  caused 
by  the  undeveloped  horns  that  in  a  few  months 
[37] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

would  break  through  the  skin.  The  frightened 
mother  turned  her  head  and  followed  every 
move  I  made  with  her  great  mournful  eyes.  Her 
body  and  limbs  trembled  and  tears  rolled  down 
her  cheeks.  My  heart  ached  for  the  poor  suf- 
fering creature.  Not  wishing  unnecessarily  to 
distress  his  suffering  mother,  I  placed  the  dear 
little  fawn  on  the  ground  again.  How  I  longed 
to  make  the  poor  dying  doe  understand  I  was 
a  friend  and  would  not  harm  her  or  her  little 
ones.  But,  alas,  how  could  she  know?  Was  it 
not  a  human  being  that  for  the  mere  thoughtless 
sport  of  taking  animal  life  had  brought  her  to 
death's  door  ?  And  perchance  many  times  in  the 
past  she  had  been  shot  at  and  driven  for  miles 
and  miles  over  the  prairie.  Had  she  not  seen 
many  of  her  companions  drop  in  the  chase,  never 
to  join  the  herd?  Had  she  not  heard  that 
same  harsh  sound  of  the  gun  ring  across  the 
prairie  this  very  morning  as  one  of  her  compan- 
ions leaped  high  in  the  air,  ran  a  few  paces  and 
then  fell  ?  At  the  same  time  as  she  sprang  for- 
ward a  second  report  rang  out  and  something 
struck  her  shoulder  and  pierced  her  lungs.  How 
she  ran  with  frenzied  madness  as  the  sharp  pain 
[38] 


PRONG-HORNS 

repeatedly  shot  through  her  shoulder.  She  had 
but  one  thought  —  that  of  reaching  her  beloved 
and  unprotected  little  ones.  And  here  at  the 
very  last  was  another  of  these  strange  human 
beings  holding  her  defenceless  children  and  she 
was  unable  to  protect  or  defend  them. 

It  seemed  as  if  I  could  read  all  these  thoughts 
and  many  more  as  I  stood  with  tears  rolling 
down  my  own  cheeks,  looking  into  the  moist 
eyes  of  the  doe.  I  stood  in  silent  sympathy 
and  thought.  Would  the  day  ever  come  when 
human  beings  would  learn  to  love,  protect  and 
appreciate  the  real  value  of  every  living  crea- 
ture ?  Would  man  ever  learn  to  live  with 
mother  nature  so  as  truly  to  understand  her 
simple  but  powerful  laws  of  love,  economy  and 
evolution?  Would  all  the  world  in  time  be 
governed  by  it  in  harmony  and  peace  ?  I  could 
but  do  my  little  part  and  hope.  As  I  stood 
thus  in  meditation  the  fawns  raised  themselves 
upon  their  weak,  uncertain  legs  and  staggered 
to  their  mother's  side.  She  looked  at  her  little 
ones  as  they  approached  and  then  at  me.  I 
walked  toward  the  spring  and  left  her  with  her 
own.  I  tried  to  carry  water  from  the  spring  in 
[39] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

my  sunbonnet,  in  hope  of  reviving  the  dying 
animal  by  moistening  her  mouth.  My  effort 
was  in  vain ;  when  I  returned  the  antelope  was 
dead. 

The  little  fawns  could  not  understand.  One 
of  them  licked  her  mother's  face  while  the  other 
knelt  on  his  knees  and  rooted  about  his  mother's 
side  in  search  of  his  breakfast.  After  some  time, 
however,  the  little  fawns  receiving  no  response 
from  their  lifeless  mother  lay  down  flat  on  the 
grass  beside  her.  Now  that  the  antelope's  suf- 
fering was  over,  I  remembered  the  mission  up- 
on which  I  was  sent.  I  rounded  up  the  cattle 
that  were  now  feeding  on  the  meadow  below 
and  started  them  homeward.  Before  leaving  I 
bent  over  the  little  fawns  and  promised  myself 
to  come  back  for  them  and  endeavor  to  raise 
them  as  pets. 

Several  hours  later  when  I  returned  I  was 
greatly  surprised  as  I  looked  from  the  hilltop 
to  find  a  strange  doe  acting  as  foster  mother  to 
the  motherless  fawns.  She  stood  perfectly  still 
but  a  short  distance  from  their  lifeless  mother. 
The  two  little  ones  with  partly  bended  knees 
were  taking  their  morning  meal  apparently  in 


PRONG-HORNS 

perfect  contentment.  As  I  had  not  been  ob- 
served by  the  antelope  I  concealed  myself  and 
watched.  After  the  fawns  had  fed  for  some 
time  their  foster-mother  led  them  away  to  a 
sheltered  spot  further  down  the  stream.  She 
licked  their  coats  as  they  stumbled  along  in 
front  of  her.  Presently  they  lay  down  but  a 
few  feet  from  the  bank.  The  doe  stood  and 
watched  them  for  a  while  and  then  sprang  for- 
ward and  ran  some  distance  over  the  prairie 
where  she  joined  several  others  that  were  brows- 
ing upon  the  short  grass.  About  noon  two 
Omaha  Indians  chanced  to  be  passing  that  way 
and  carried  away  the  dead  animal  to  their  tem- 
porary camp. 

I  was  much  interested  in  the  little  fawns  and 
their  foster-mother.  I  decided  not  to  take  them 
home,  for  I  knew  they  would  fare  better  and  have 
more  chance  to  live  in  their  natural  haunts  and 
under  the  loving  care  of  their  foster-mother. 
Perhaps  she  had  lost  her  own  little  ones.  Many 
are  killed  by  wolves  and  other  wild  animals  of 
the  plains  in  the  first  few  days  of  life  while  they 
are  entirely  helpless  and  depend  upon  escaping 
the  notice  of  enemies  by  lying  flat  on  the  ground 
[4-] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

where   the    surroundings    are   near    their    own 
color. 

Toward  night  the  doe  returned  to  the  fawns 
and  gave  them  their  supper.  Thus  she  fed 
them  for  several  days,  leading  them  farther  away 
each  time.  I  would  conceal  myself  some  dis- 
tance from  the  fawns  and  lay  in  wait  for  the 
mother-doe  to  come  and  nurse  her  children. 
One  morning  I  was  surprised  to  see  her  lead 
them  along  the  divide.  I  watched  them  with 
thrilling  interest  as  I  lay  on  the  ground  in  the 
grass  on  a  high  elevation  that  commanded  a 
good  view  for  some  distance  in  all  directions. 

The  fawns  ran  beside  their  devoted  foster- 
mother  at  a  surprisingly  rapid  gait.  Their  weak 
legs  of  but  a  few  days  past  were  now  strong  and 
steady.  I  was  certain  of  knowing  the  doe  if  I 
should  have  the  good  fortune  to  meet  her  again 
at  close  range.  Her  right  ear  was  split  and  a 
piece  torn  off.  I  could  imagine  a  fight  with 
her  deadly  foe,  the  coyote,  in  which  he  had  torn 
the  flap  off  her  ear  as  she  bravely  defended  her 
little  ones  from  his  cruel  jaws. 

During  all  this  time  I  lay  conjuring  up  this 
tragedy  until  I  was  sure  it  could  have  happened 
£•4*] 


PRONG-HORNS 

in  no  other  way.  The  graceful  doe  and  beauti- 
ful fawns  leaped  over  the  divide  and  joined  a 
small  band  of  antelope  that  frequented  the  plains 
for  miles  around.  The  grass  had  been  burned 
late  in  the  fall  and,  in  consequence,  early  the  fol- 
lowing spring  it  had  sprung  up  thick,  with  juicy, 
tender  blades,  making  this  strip  of  prairie  a  very 
attractive  feeding  ground  for  the  prong-horns. 

During  the  next  week  I  noticed  footprints 
of  the  antelope  down  by  the  spring  and  decided 
that  the  "  wingless  birds  of  the  plains,"  as  they 
are  sometimes  called,  were  using  the  pool  near 
the  spring  for  a  drinking  place.  Early  the  fol- 
lowing morning  I  concealed  myself  behind  a 
willow  tree  in  the  hope  of  again  seeing  the  little 
fawns  and  the  doe  with  the  injured  ear. 

I  was  finally  repaid  by  seeing  the  head  of  the 
doe  appear  over  the  hill  and  by  her  side  were 
the  two  little  fawns.  The  doe  stopped  on  the 
top  of  the  hill,  raised  her  head  and  looked 
around.  Seeing  nothing  that  seemed  strange 
or  harmful  she  came  down  the  hill  against  the 
wind  with  the  fawns  and  drank  from  the  pool 
only  a  few  feet  away  from  where  I  sat.  Ante- 
lope are  accustomed  to  go  to  water  against  the 
[43] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

wind  in  order  to  scent  enemies.  When  the  doe 
I  was  observing  had  finished  drinking  she  turned 
her  head  in  my  direction.  Just  a  moment  be- 
fore I  had  stood  up  with  my  head  at  an  open- 
ing in  the  branches  of  the  willow  tree.  Thus 
she  looked  straight  at  me  with  her  large,  mild, 
black  eyes  bordered  with  long,  heavy  eye-lashes. 
What  thrilling  moments  of  pleasure  and  excite- 
ment! Face  to  face  with  and  looking  directly 
into  the  eyes  of  one  of  the  fleetest  and  most 
graceful  wild  animals  of  the  prairie  !  The  wind 
was  coming  in  my  direction  and  I  stood  like  a 
statue  without  moving  a  muscle,  hardly  daring 
to  breathe  and  with  a  free  wild  feeling  that  I 
have  never  experienced  before  or  since.  There 
we  stood  looking  at  each  other  in  mute  silence. 
I  drinking  inspiration  derived  from  her  grand, 
wild  life,  and  she  trying  to  discover  whether 
I  was  a  part  of  the  tree,  as  she  could  see  but 
little  of  me  through  the  numerous  shoots  and 
branches  thickly  covered  with  leaves.  Pres- 
ently she  lowered  her  head  and  began  browsing 
grass  near  by  but  still  facing  me  and  keeping 
the  fawns  behind  her.  I  continued  to  stand 
perfectly  still  until  they  gradually  left  me, 
[44] 


PRONG-HORNS 

After  this  I  watched  them  many  times  during 
the  summer  as  they  drank  from  the  pool  and 
often  saw  them  at  a  distance  feeding  upon  the 
prairie  in  company  with  others  of  their  kind. 

One  day  in  September  before  the  rutting 
season  began,  the  doe  and  fawns  came  to  drink 
as  usual.  While  feeding  near  the  stream  the 
doe  was  disturbed  by  hearing  the  alarm  of  a 
rattlesnake.  Directly  in  front  of  her,  coiled  up 
ready  to  spring  at  one  of  the  fawns,  was  a  large 
rattler  giving  his  signal  of  danger.  Instantly 
the  doe  raised  her  front  feet,  sprang  forward  and 
came  down  on  the  snake  with  all  her  weight. 
She  then  proceeded  to  paw  and  cut  it  into  pieces 
with  her  sharp  pointed  hoofs.  After  this  she 
raised  her  head,  dilated  her  nostrils,  gave  a  loud 
snort,  sprang  forward  and  ran  up  the  hill  with 
the  two  fawns  close  at  her  heels. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  one  day  noticed  a  coyote 
skulking  along  in  front  of  me  and  off  to  my  left 
was  another  circling  around  the  hill  at  a  fast  gait. 
I  knew  they  were  after  some  other  animal,  one 
intending  to  attack  it  from  the  front  and  the 
other  from  the  rear.  As  I  reached  the  top  of  the 
knoll  I  could  see  in  a  ravine  a  doe  feeding  and 
[45] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

near  by  were  two  fawns  frisking  about  in  the 
noonday  sun.  Presently  she  raised  her  head  and 
saw  the  approaching  coyotes.  She  snorted  and 
pawed  the  earth  in  alarm.  I  stopped  and  awaited 
developments.  As  the  coyote  in  front  ap- 
proached her  she  stood  between  him  and  the 
fawns.  The  coyote  circled  around  and  tried  to 
get  behind  her  but  the  doe  turned  when  he  did 
and  always  managed  to  face  the  wolf  and  thrust 
her  body  between  the  attacking  forces  and  her 
little  ones.  When  he  sprang  at  her  she  struck 
him  vigorously  with  her  fore  feet  and  sent  him 
rolling  over  and  over  just  as  his  cowardly  com- 
panion came  up  from  the  rear.  In  an  instant  the 
fearless  antelope  wheeled  around  and  charged  at 
the  new  comer  with  her  short  but  sharp  horns, 
sending  him  back  with  a  howl  of  pain.  Soon 
the  coyotes  recovered  from  the  encounter  and 
sat  on  their  haunches  some  distance  from  the 
doe  and  much  coveted  fawns.  The  doe  con- 
tinued to  snort  and  flash  the  white  spot  on  her 
rump.  The  wolves  walked  around,  showed 
their  teeth  and  snarled  only  to  sit  down  again 
and  lick  their  jaws  in  hungry  anticipation.  Thus 
they  continued  for  some  time.  The  doe,  brave 

[46] 


PRONG-HORNS 

and  fearless  in  her  determination  to  protect  her- 
self and  the  fawns,  kept  them  at  bay  while  the 
cowardly  coyotes  were  no  less  determined  on  se- 
curing their  noonday  meal.  The  coyotes  were 
getting  desperate.  One  rushed  at  the  fawns 
from  the  rear  while  the  other  tried  to  claim  all 
the  attention  of  the  doe  by  attacking  her  with 
snarls  and  growls  from  the  front.  She  was  too 
quick  for  them.  With  a  tremendous  blow  from 
her  fore  legs  she  cut  a  gash  in  the  head  of  one  coy- 
ote, as  she  sent  him  rolling  and  howling  with  pain. 
In  an  instant  she  turned  and  struck  at  the  other 
coyote,  knocking  him  senseless  just  as  he  sprang 
at  the  neck  of  one  of  the  fawns.  I  saw  there 
was  danger  that  the  doe  would  be  overpowered, 
so  I  sent  my  pony  on  a  long  gallop  forward  and 
drove  the  coyotes  away.  The  antelope  stood 
for  a  moment  and  looked  at  me.  It  was  the 
same  doe  with  the  damaged  ear  and  the  fawns 
that  had  grown  to  be  a  part  of  my  life  !  Pres- 
ently they  took  to  their  heels  and  joined  the 
herd  from  which  they  had  become  separated, 
leaving  more  than  two  miles  between  us.  I 
followed  at  a  distance  and  watched  the  coyotes 
who  also  followed  and  joined  several  other  wolves 
[47] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

which  hung  around  but  a  short  distance  from 
the  herd  waiting  for  one  to  become  separated 
from  the  others,  or  to  be  left  behind  by  sickness 
or  accident.  Around  the  outskirts  of  prong- 
horn  herds  are  generally  to  be  found  a  number  of 
hungry  coyotes,  waiting  to  devour  any  unfortu- 
nate one  which  may  chance  to  fall  in  their  power. 

The  bucks  were  now  gathering  the  does  and 
their  young  into  large  bands  for  mutual  protec- 
tion during  the  winter.  Many  a  hard  battle 
was  fought  between  opposing  prong-horn  males 
in  the  endeavor  of  one  to  lead  away  the  does 
coveted  by  the  other.  The  fighting  consists  in 
one  buck  locking  horns  with  the  other  and  then 
pushing  head  to  head  as  hard  as  possible.  The 
one  who  succeeds  in  pushing  with  most  force 
sends  his  beaten  rival  away  with  a  farewell  punch 
in  his  side  or  rump.  The  victor  gains  the 
ownership  of  the  disputed  does  and  proceeds  to 
drive  them  along  with  the  rest  of  his  band. 

A  large  prong-horn  buck  is  nearly  five  feet 
in  length  and  three  feet  high  at  the  shoulders, 
carrying  a  pair  of  horns  nearly  a  foot  in  length 
and  curved  upward  and  inward,  having  a  short 
triangular  prong  with  a  blunt  point,  which 
[48] 


PRONG-HORNS 

branches  off  about  two-thirds  from  the  end,  from 
which  the  animal  received  its  name.  Below,  the 
horn  is  very  broad  and  flat,  but  above  it  the 
horn  runs  to  a  sharp  point  and  is  curved  inward. 
These  animals  being  great  fighters,  nature  has 
provided  them  with  horns  that  turn  inward  to 
prevent  them  from  mortally  wounding  one 
another  during  the. rutting  season.  The  buck's 
body  is  covered  with  long  hair  of  light  yellowish 
color;  it  is  thick,  coarse  and  stiff,  somewhat 
crinkled  and  quite  brittle.  Upon  the  neck  during 
the  winter  season  is  carried  a  thick,  coarse  mane 
nearly  six  inches  long.  This  is  shed  in  the  follow- 
ing spring  leaving  but  a  black  streak  of  short 
hairs.  A  white  band  about  two  inches  in  breadth 
partly  encircles  the  throat  and  beneath  this  is  a 
brown  band  of  the  same  breadth.  The  under 
parts  are  white.  On  each  side  of  the  rump  is  a 
patch  of  white  hair  considerably  longer  than  that 
covering  the  remainder  of  the  body.  These 
hairs  when  raised  flash  in  the  sunlight  and  stand 
out  in  all  directions  like  the  petals  of  a  chrysan- 
themum ;  at  the  same  time  a  pleasant  musk  odor 
is  thrown  out  upon  the  air  from  glands  situated 
at  the  base  of  the  hairs. 

[49] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

One  day,  late  in  October,  I  noticed  a  noble 
male  specimen  whose  description  has  just  been 
given.  He  pawed  the  earth,  snorted  and  ran 
up  and  down  the  prairie  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
or  more.  Presently  two  does  and  three  fawns 
drew  his  attention  ;  he  ran  after  them  and  drove 
them  in  my  direction.  They  passed  within  a 
few  yards  of  me.  There  beside  a  large  strange 
doe  was  the  faithful  little  one  with  the  torn  ear 
and  close  behind  her  were  the  two  adopted 
fawns.  The  proud  buck  with  his  large  "  prong- 
horns"  had  claimed  her  for  his  own.  On  and 
on  they  went,  joining  others,  as  the  strong  buck 
fought  his  battles  and  gathered  many  a  doe  into 
his  wild  harem.  They  were  on  their  way  to  the 
canon  to  spend  the  winter,  sheltered  from  the 
cold  winds  and  driving  snow  of  the  flat  lands. 

That  was  the  last  time  I  saw  the  little  doe  and 
the  fawns  that  I  had  long  since  begun  to  call 
my  own.  I  have  always  been  glad  that  the 
sweet  memory  of  that  morning's  pleasure  was 
not  marred  by  the  realization  of  this  fact  as  I 
saw  the  graceful  animals  with  the  noble  buck 
disappear  from  my  view  in  the  distance. 

[5°] 


SAM  DEMPSTER  AND  THE 
PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

SAM  DEMPSTER  was  a  lone  bachelor, 
a  tall,  quiet  man,  who  made  it  a  practice 
to  mind  his  own  business  and  to  see  that 
everyone  else  did  the  same  in  so  far  as  he  was 
personally    concerned.     He    always   wore    his 
pants  well  tucked  into  his  high-topped  boots. 
A  flannel    shirt,  with    a   buckskin  coat  when 
needed,  and  a  slouch  hat  which  shaded  his  full- 
bearded  face  completed  his  costume. 

He  was  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  the  county. 
Just  when    he    came,  or  from  where,  no   one 
seemed    to    know.     He    owned    a   homestead 
which  was  looked  upon  as  being  one  of  the  best 
quarter-sections  of  land  in  that  part  of  the  state. 
Adjoining  his  farm,  down  near  the  hay  land, 
was  a  small  prairie-dog  town.     They  were  so- 
ciable   little    brutes,    among   themselves,    and 
[5-] 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

somehow  they  seemed  to  touch  a  sympathetic 
chord  in  Sam's  nature.  He  could  be  seen  almost 
any  evening  before  sundown,  sauntering  with 
long,  deliberate  strides  down  the  hill  from  his 
dugout  and  across  the  meadows  to  the  homes 
of  these  little  animals.  When  Sam  first  began 
paying  his  visits  to  the  prairie-dog  town  the 
little  creatures  were  very  suspicious  of  him. 
The  "  Mayor,"  as  Sam  called  the  largest  of  the 
prairie-dogs,  was  generally  to  be  seen  sitting 
upon  the  hillock  that  stood  on  the  highest  ele- 
vation of  the  town.  He  seemed  to  be  on  guard 
as  he  sat  and  peered  in  all  directions  with  his 
large  brown  eyes.  If  he  discovered  any  sus- 
picious looking  object  in  the  distance  he  would 
instantly  give  a  shrill,  sharp  little  bark  of 
alarm.  It  was  from  this  peculiar  short  yelp 
that  these  pretty  little  creatures  received  their 
name  and  not  from  any  relationship  they  hold 
to  the  dog-family.  They  are  cousins  to  their 
neighbors,  the  ground-squirrels.  When  the 
Mayor  uttered  his  bark  of  alarm,  every  prai- 
rie-dog that  was  out  in  the  town  rushed  madly 
for  his  home  where  he  mounted  the  hillock  of 
dirt  and  sat  bolt  upright  in  front  of  the  hole, 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

with  his  fore  paws  folded  downward,  looking 
soberly  but  curiously  in  the  direction  of  the  in- 
truder. If  the  object  that,  had  drawn  the 
Mayor's  attention  continued  to  move  the  dogs 
would  keep  up  an  incessant  barking,  accom- 
panying each  bark  with  a  quick  jerk  of  their 
bodies  and  short  tails  until  the  disturbing  object 
was  out  of  sight.  But  if  it  chanced  to  draw 
near  they  would  all  spring  into  their  holes,  leav- 
ing nothing  but  the  little  mounds  of  dirt  with 
the  well  trodden  paths  between  them  to  mark 
the  place  that  but  a  moment  before  was  alive 
with  noise,  curiosity  and  excitement. 

As  Sam  drew  near  the  town  on  his  first  visit 
the  excitement  and  fear  was  so  great  that  each 
animal  fairly  turned  a  somersault  as  it  pitched 
forward  into  its  underground  home.  In  a  few 
minutes,  however,  the  curiosity  that  character- 
izes these  animals  forced  one  of  the  nerviest  of 
them  to  stick  his  head  out  quickly  and  look 
around.  When  he  saw  Sam  standing  within  a 
short  distance  of  him  he  darted  into  his  hole 
again,  quicker  than  a  flash  of  lightning.  Sam 
was  interested.  This  was  something  new  in  his 
life.  He  hid  behind  a  clump  of  weeds  and 
[55] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

waited.  Presently  the  little  fellow  ventured  to 
look  again,  but  only  for  a  moment,  when  he 
dropped  back  out  of  sight  to  gain  confidence 
after  which  he  repeated  his  venture.  This  time 
he  was  bolder  and  stuck  his  head  further  out 
and,  not  seeing  the  unwelcome  guest  who  had 
disturbed  them,  he  raised  his  head  a  little  higher 
from  the  hillock,  then  cautiously  pulled  out  his 
whole  body  and  sat  straight  up  as  before.  After 
looking  for  some  time  to  make  sure  there  was 
no  enemy  he  uttered  several  call  barks.  One 
of  his  near  neighbors  answered  him  by  sticking 
its  head  out  of  a  neighboring  hillock  and  look- 
ing around.  On  being  assured  that  all  was 
safe  the  little  animal  came  out  and  ran  along 
the  well  worn  paths  of  the  town.  At  different 
burrows  he  would  stop,  sit  up,  and,  with  a  queer 
little  jerk  of  his  body  and  tail,  bark  for  his 
neighbors  to  come  and  join  him.  This  brought 
the  Mayor  out  on  his  hillock  of  observation. 
The  animal,  accompanied  by  two  others  whom 
he  had  lately  called  from  their  homes,  ran  to 
the  Mayor's  hillock  and  talked  to  him  in  prai- 
rie-dog language,  by  little  barks  and  yelps. 
The  first  dog  who,  in  his  friendly  little  way,  had 
[56] 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

been  informing  his  companions  that  danger  was 
passed,  stepped  forward  and  spoke  to  the 
Mayor  first,  as  though  apologizing  for  the 
liberty  he  had  taken  without  his  consent.  The 
other  dogs  joined  him  in  a  most  earnest  busi- 
ness-like manner,  as  though  consulting  upon 
important  business  as  to  their  government  or 
the  safety  of  the  inmates  of  their  neat  and  seem- 
ingly well  regulated  town.  While  Sam  lay  con- 
cealed behind  the  clump  of  weeds  he  allowed 
his  imagination  to  transform  every  act  of  the 
intelligent,  quick,  little  creatures  into  human 
thoughts.  It  was  this  first  evening  that  he 
named  the  big  dog  Mayor  —  and  those  who 
gathered  around  him  he  called  "  the  council," 
and  fancied  them  holding  a  town  meeting,  and 
as  each  barked  more  excitedly  than  the  other 
he  was  certain  they  were  having  a  political  dis- 
cussion on  the  tariff  or  some  other  subject  that 
political  parties  always  keep  upon  the  shelf  for 
an  emergency. 

Over  in  the  opposite  direction  from  this  sober 
gathering,  behind  a  new  hillock  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  village,  were  two  little  dogs  caress- 
ing each  other  and  rolling  Indian  apples  to  one 
[57] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

another  before  eating  them.  Presently  the 
larger  one  secured  a  dainty  stem  of  the  plant 
and  handed  it  to  his  companion  who  took  it  in 
her  paw  with  a  bow  of  her  head  in  the  most 
human-like  way;  she  then  sat  up  holding  the 
stem  daintily  in  one  paw  until  all  was  eaten. 
Sam  became  very  much  interested  in  this  bit  of 
love-making  and  moved  slightly  in  order  to 
see  more  clearly.  The  sharp  eyes  of  the 
Mayor  saw  him  and  with  one  commanding 
bark  from  himself  and  several  from  those  who 
seemingly  sat  in  council  on  the  near-by  hillocks, 
they  sent  the  dogs  hurrying  along  the  many 
avenues  and  streets  of  the  town  from  which 
they  had  assembled  and  tumbling  into  their 
holes,  they  left  the  town  apparently  uninhab- 
ited. It  was  some  time  before  there  was  a  move 
in  the  village,  and  the  old  Mayor  was  the  first 
to  take  a  cautious  view  of  the  surrounding  coun- 
try. 

The  heavy  dew  began  to  fall  as  the  sun  sank 
in  the  west.  Sam  felt  damp  and  chilly  so  he 
arose  and  left  his  only  near  neighbors  and  made 
his  way  back  across  the  meadow  to  his  lonely 
dugout. 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

As  the  settlers  were  few  and  far  from  one 
another,  the  prairie-dogs  were  not  a  nuisance  in 
those  days  to  the  western  farmer.  Nature,  as 
usual  in  natural  conditions,  balanced  herself  and 
the  prairie  dog  was  kept  in  check  while  acting 
as  a  manufacturing  establishment  to  turn  vege- 
table matter  into  flesh  for  the  benefit  of  his 
carnivorous  neighbors. 

During  the  second  summer  of  Sam's  frontier 
life  the  crops  were  a  failure,  as  they  often  were 
in  those  days  before  the  planting  of  trees,  which 
has  done  so  much  for  the  plains  in  changing  the 
climate,  breaking  the  winds,  retaining  the  snow 
and  ridding  the  country  of  the  grasshopper  pest. 

Many  a  plains  settler  felt  the  pangs  of  hunger 
more  than  once  during  the  dry  fall  and  long 
winter  that  followed.  Early  one  morning  Sam 
noticed  the  sky  was  not  clear  and  the  sun  was 
not  as  bright  as  usual.  There  was  a  hazy  at- 
mosphere through  which  the  sky  looked  gray 
and  the  sun  appeared  as  a  dull  red  ball.  This 
continued  for  two  days,  the  air  growing  hotter 
and  more  dense  with  smoke ;  not  the  least  breeze 
stirred.  Sam  learned  from  the  stage-driver  at 
the  Crossroads  that  a  great  western  prairie  fire 
[59] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

was  sweeping  over  the  plains  from  Texas  north- 
ward, and  that  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  "  back 
fire  "  if  he  wished  to  save  his  life  and  belongings 
("  traps  "  or  "  outfit "  as  the  westerner  expresses 
it).  Great  herds  of  buffalo,  wild  ponies  and 
other  animals  of  the  plains  rushed  in  frantic 
stampedes  for  the  rivers  and  mountainous  dis- 
tricts before  the  mad,  wild  flames.  Once  over- 
taken by  the  fire  there  would  have  been  left  but 
a  lifeless,  charred  object  to  tell  the  cruel  story. 
Such  has  been  the  fate  of  many  an  unfortunate 
man  as  well  as  animal,  surprised  and  overtaken 
by  the  relentless  flames,  fed  by  the  long  slough 
grass,  the  thick  bunch  or  buffalo  grass  and  great 
tumble-weeds  which  often  carry  the  fires  across 
a  stream  more  than  half  a  mile  wide,  setting  the 
flames  loose  on  the  opposite  side.  Sam  took 
the  hint  given  him  by  the  stage-driver  and  set 
fire  to  the  grass  around  his  home,  after  breaking 
a  "  fire  line  "  to  prevent  his  own  fire  from  get- 
ting beyond  control  and  destroying  that  which 
he  was  endeavoring  to  save.  When  the  main 
fire  came,  within  half  an  hour,  it  swept  by  leav- 
ing the  prairie,  as  far  as  one  could  see,  a  black, 
desolate  waste. 

[60] 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

Sam  continued  to  visit  the  prairie-dog  town 
during  the  two  years  he  lived  near  it.  After  a 
time  the  little  dwellers  lost  their  fear  of  him  and 
a  number  of  them  were  on  very  friendly  terms 
with  him.  When  he  came  near  they  would 
gather  around  for  the  food  he  never  failed  to 
carry  in  his  pockets  for  them. 

After  the  prairie  fire  had  wiped  away  all  their 
food  but  the  underground  roots  the  little  ani- 
mals, forced  by  hunger,  became  more  and  more 
friendly  with  Sam.  One  of  the  young  dogs 
even  went  so  far  as  to  crawl  into  his  pocket  and 
help  himself  to  the  food  and  a  number  were 
bold  enough  to  come  and  eat  from  his  hand. 

Even  wild  animal  food  was  very  scarce  in 
consequence  of  the  widespread  praire  fires  and 
the  settlers  welcomed  the  flesh  of  the  little 
prairie  dog,  which  in  the  young  is  really  very 
tender  and  good.  One  day  while  Sam  was 
making  his  customary  visit  to  his  four-footed 
and  most  intimate  friends  he  noticed  a  stranger 
crawling  behind  some  old  prairie-dog  hillocks 
with  a  gun  in  his  hand.  Before  Sam  could  stop 
him  he  had  shot  one  of  the  little  fellows  in  a 
path  and  another  in  front  of  his  hillock.  While 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

picking  up  the  one  in  the  path,  one  of  the  dogs 
watched  the  stranger  while  another  pulled  the 
body  of  his  dead  comrade  into  the  hole  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  hunter.  It  is  very  difficult  to 
secure  a  prairie-dog  even  if  you  hit  it,  for  they 
either  wriggle  into  their  holes  before  death  or 
are  pulled  in  by  one  of  their  companions  after- 
wards. The  usually  successful  way  is  to  lie 
concealed  and  wait  until  one  leaves  his  hillock, 
then  if  hit  it  is  possible  to  secure  him. 

Sam  was  both  grieved  and  angry  at  the 
stranger  for  he  had  become  very  much  attached 
to  the  little  brutes  and  felt  it  a  personal  injury 
to  have  one  of  them  molested.  The  farmer 
told  him  of  a  sick  wife  and  child  and  that  he 
had  been  tramping  all  day  in  hope  of  finding 
nourishing  food.  Sam  helped  him  in  the  true, 
generous,  western  spirit  and  the  seeming  injury 
was  forgotten. 

One  cold  wet  day  Sam  found  a  couple  of 
young  dogs  away  from  their  burrow  in  search 
of  food ;  they  were  hungry  and  numb  with  cold. 
He  put  them  underneath  his  coat  and  carried 
them  home.  Under  his  tender  care  they  re- 
vived and  grew  very  tame  and  fat ;  they  would 
[62] 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

sit  upon  his  knee  and  bark  for  food  or  to  attract 
his  attention  if  he  were  reading.  Sometimes 
they  would  go  to  sleep  in  his  big  coat  pocket  or 
jump  from  his  lap  to  the  table  and  take  food 
from  his  plate,  especially  carrots  or  potatoes,  as 
they  were  very  partial  to  these  two  vegetables 
either  raw  or  cooked.  They  would  hold  the 
food  in  their  paws,  sit  bolt  upright  and  watch 
him  curiously  while  they  ate  it.  In  this  way 
they  helped  Sam  to  while  away  the  long  winter 
months,  when,  for  days  at  a  time,  he  was  unable 
to  leave  the  house  because  of  the  severe  weather. 
In  the  following  spring  they  dug  a  home  for 
themselves  back  of  his  dugout  and  raised  their 
own  little  family.  Prairie-dogs  have  from  three 
to  four  little  ones  in  a  litter  and  often  there  are 
three  litters  in  a  year. 

The  settlement  of  the  plains  by  the  white 
man  was  both  a  protection  and  a  benefit  to  these 
little  vegetable  consumers.  His  coming  killed 
off  their  four-footed  enemies  and  they  increased 
in  numbers  until  they  themselves  became  a  nui- 
sance, destroying  hay-land  and  putting  horses 
and  cattle  in  danger  of  breaking  their  legs  by 
stumbling  into  their  deserted  burrows.  Man 

[63] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

has  in  consequence  been  obliged  to  do  the  work 
nature  did  before  he  interfered.  The  plains 
farmer  now  finds  it  necessary  to  do  all  in  his 
power  to  prevent  the  increase  of  the  prairie 
dogs. 

Sam  often  took  his  two  little  pets  with  him  to 
visit  their  old  home  and  relatives ;  but  they 
were  always  carried  back  to  his  own  home  and 
his  companionship. 

Before  and  after  a  storm  Sam  particularly  en- 
joyed watching  the  little  animals  of  the  town, 
which  included  one  hundred  or  more  inhabitants. 
They  would  come  out  in  a  most  business-like 
manner  when  a  storm  threatened,  inspect  the 
little  mounds  of  dirt,  which  are  usually  from  two 
to  three  feet  in  diameter  and  two  feet  high.  If 
one  found  the  least  defect  he  would  throw  up 
the  dirt  with  masterly  skill  and  great  energy,  then 
run  along  in  company  with  a  neighbor  to  the 
next  burrow.  When  all  was  completed  they 
would  sit  upon  their  respective  hillocks  and  look 
as  though  watching  the  threatening  storm-cloud. 
After  the  storm  had  spent  its  fury  they  were 
the  first  animals  to  be  up  and  at  work  repairing 
any  damage.  In  a  short  time  the  town  would 

[64] 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

be  put  in  perfect  condition  and  its  inmates  ready 
to  eat,  be  sociable  and  merry. 

These  little  vegetable-feeding  animals  of  the 
plains  not  only  eat  the  green  portion  of  the  grass 
and  other  prairie  plants  but  the  roots  as  well. 
After  a  time,  when  all  the  food  is  consumed 
around  their  burrows,  they  desert  them  and  ex- 
tend their  village  by  digging  new  underground 
houses  and  making  new  streets.  It  is  not  un- 
common to  find  a  prairie-dog  town  covering  from 
five  to  ten  acres  of  land,  or  even  more.  The 
centre  of  the  town  is  generally  barren  of  animals. 
The  deserted  holes  as  a  rule  are  occupied  by 
the  little  burrowing  owls.  There  were  a  num- 
ber of  these  queer  little  owls  in  the  town  ad- 
joining Sam's  farm,  two  of  which  he  captured 
and  kept  in  a  wooden  cage  placed  over  some 
soft  dirt  in  which  the  little  feathered  fellows 
dug  a  home.  Sam  fed  them  on  mice,  pieces  of 
meat  and  insects.  There  was  one  owl  who  had 
a  habit  of  standing  on  top  of  a  deserted  prairie- 
dog  hillock,  blinking  its  eyes  in  the  sunlight 
and  gravely  bowing  at  Sam  whenever  he  hap- 
pened to  see  him. 

There  were  many  rattlesnakes  in  the  vicinity 

[65] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

of  the  dog- village,  for  they  are  very  fond  of  young 
prairie-dogs  as  well  as  the  eggs  and  the  young 
of  the  burrowing  owl.  They  are  always  to  be 
found  near  these  homes.  Sam  saved  the 
rattles  of  this  honorable  snake  of  the  plains, 
who  always  gives  considerate  warning  of  its  pres- 
ence and  its  intention  to  strike.  He  had  over 
a  dozen  good-sized  rattles  on  a  string  the  sight 
of  which  would  have  made  any  Indian  maiden 
envious.  One  warm  afternoon  in  July  Sam 
with  a  string  of  rattles  in  his  hand  stood  on  the 
edge  of  the  village.  He  had  just  killed  a  large 
rattlesnake  and  had  finished  adding  the  rattle  to 
his  collection  when  he  noticed  a  white  speck  in 
the  distance.  As  it  grew  nearer  he  saw  it  was 
a  canvas  covered  wagon  locally  called  a  "  prairie 
schooner/'  drawn  by  two  thin,  hidebound  In- 
dian ponies.  Sam's  thoughts  wandered  back  to 
the  time  when  he  had  left  civilization  and 
traveled  across  the  barren  plains  to  the  place  he 
now  called  home  and  the  free,  wild  life  he  had 
learned  to  love  so  dearly.  Weeks  often  passed 
without  his  seeing  a  single  white  man's  face.  The 
covered  wagon  coming  in  his  direction  started  all 
kinds  of  thoughts  in  his  mind.  Could  it  be  an 
[66] 


THE  PRAIRIE-DOG  TOWN 

eastern  man?  One  who  could  tell  him  of  home, 
the  latest  books,  or  other  topics.  Had  he  a  wife 
or  daughter  ?  The  thought  of  seeing  one  of  the 
gentler  sex  from  his  own  social  rank  caused  a 
blush  to  spread  over  his  bronzed  face  and  far  into 
his  hair.  It  had  been  three  years  since  Sam 
had  seen  a  white  woman.  The  little  prairie-dogs 
were  all  attention  as  the  wagon  drew  near  and 
Sam  thought  of  their  happy,  social  lives  and 
compared  it  with  his  own  hermit  existence.  Why 
was  it  his  thoughts  went  back  to  his  college 
chum  ?  How  they  had  unfortunately  both  loved 
the  same  girl !  There  was  a  misunderstanding 
between  himself  and  the  young  lady.  She  had 
married  his  chum.  Sam  looked  up  as  the  wagon 
stopped.  The  delicate  features  of  a  sad-faced 
woman  peered  out  from  under  a  calico  sunbon- 
net  and  by  her  side  sat  a  chubby  little  girl  of 
three  summers.  The  little  girl  admired  the 
string  of  bluish  rattles  and  made  friends  at  once 
with  Sam  by  begging  permission  to  just  hold 
them.  Sam  helped  the  tired  travelers  to  his 
dugout  to  rest  and  refresh  themselves  and  the 
horses  with  a  good  meal  and  a  cool  drink.  The 
water  was  most  welcome  for  they  had  been  travel- 
[67] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

ing  over  a  long  stretch  of  barren  waste,  where  the 
intense  heat  and  dazzling  whiteness  of  the  alka- 
line beds  had  almost  choked  and  blinded  them. 

The  woman  told  Sam  she  was  bound  for  the 
fort,  where  she  hoped  to  find  protection  and  aid 
to  get  back  to  her  home  in  the  east ;  her  hus- 
band had  been  taken  sick  on  the  road  and  had 
died.  She  was  obliged  to  bury  him  on  the 
plains  with  the  help  of  a  settler,  who  had  shel- 
tered them  on  the  last  night  her  husband  was 
alive.  They  both  were  changed ;  time,  clothes 
and  circumstances  had  entirely  altered  their 
appearance,  but  there  had  been  no  change  in 
Sam's  heart.  The  woman  was  his  late  chum's 
wife  !  As  they  talked  the  little  girl  climbed  upon 
his  knee  and  as  she  slipped  the  string  of  rattles 
around  her  neck  and  with  the  other  hand  stroked 
his  bearded  face  she  said,  "you  know  you  seem 
like  my  own  dear  papa." 

The  two  prairie-dogs  barked  at  the  little 
girl  as  she  took  their  accustomed  place  and 
snapped  at  her  dress  to  pull  her  away  ;  she  only 
laughed  !  The  covered  wagon  never  moved  on. 
The  occupants  had  found  both  love  and  pro- 
tection on  the  farm  near  the  prairie-dog  town. 
[68] 


WHITE-JACK  AND  HER 
COMPANIONS 

IT  was  the  first  meeting  of  the  Jack-Rabbit 
Hunting  Club.    The  district  school-teacher 
who  had  organized  it  was  the  first  to  arrive. 
She  was  a  typical  western  girl,  twenty  years  of 
age,  full  of  life  and  love  of  nature.     Her  chief 
thought  next  to  her  school  was  to  bring  the 
people  of  the  district  to  a  higher  and  closer 
social  standing  and  to  teach  them  to  love  the 
beautiful  things  of  life  just  as  she  did. 

When  the  prairie  was  turned  into  cultivated 
fields  the  jack-rabbits,  attracted  by  the  farmer's 
crops,  were  drawn  from  their  natural  haunts  and 
food.  In  localities  where  they  gathered  in  suffi- 
cient numbers  they  did  immense  damage  each 
year  to  the  timber,  grain  and  corn.  The  young 
trees  on  many  a  timber  claim  were  killed  by  the 
"  prairie  mules,"  as  the  rabbits  were  sometimes 

[69] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

called  because  of  their  great,  mule-like  ears.  If 
the  prairie  hare,  or  jack-rabbit  of  the  plains,  as  it 
is  better  known,  is  not  killed  in  some  other  way 
than  by  its  natural  enemies,  it  becomes  a  source 
of  great  annoyance  and  of  loss  to  the  farmer. 
For  this  reason  it  became  a  popular  as  well  as  a 
beneficial  sport  to  hunt  and  kill  jack-rabbits. 
The  young  people  organized  hunting-clubs  and 
went  out  for  a  hunt  every  pleasant  Saturday,  and 
sometimes  of  an  evening  when  the  moon  was 
full  and  there  was  snow  on  the  ground. 

The  morning  selected  for  the  first  meeting  of 
our  District  Club  was  the  first  Saturday  in 
November.  The  farmers  had  finished  husk- 
ing their  corn,  so  the  boys  and  girls  were  now 
at  liberty  to  spend  Saturdays  in  company 
with  their  teacher  in  recreation  and  pleasure. 
The  cold,  bracing  air  sent  the  blood  tingling 
through  the  teacher's  veins,  giving  her  cheeks 
a  ruddy  glow  as,  in  waiting  for  the  company  to 
assemble,  she  sat  on  her  beautiful  black  mare 
with  a  rifle  slung  over  her  shoulder  by  a  strap. 

Among  the  first  to  arrive  were  the  singing- 
teacher  and  his  wife ;  then  came  the  boys  and 
girls  of  the  school,  with  now  and  then  a  young 
[7o] 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

farmer  and  his  sweetheart.  They  came  from  all 
directions,  over  the  hills  or  up  the  ravines,  to- 
ward the  school-house.  Each  waved  a  greeting 
to  the  popular  and  much-loved  teacher  as  they 
caught  sight  of  her  in  the  distance,  dressed  in  a 
steel-gray  velvet  riding-habit. 

By  eight  o'clock  all  had  arrived.  The  grey- 
hounds and  other  dogs,  twelve  in  all,  were  called 
together  by  their  masters.  The  course  to  be 
pursued  was  decided  upon.  Then  the  entire 
party  of  thirty  mounted  hunters,  some  carrying 
fire-arms  and  the  others  supplied  with  heavy 
sticks  or  big  black-snake  whips,  started  across 
the  prairie,  the  teacher  in  the  lead. 

The  first  mile  was  passed  without  seeing  a 
single  jack-rabbit.  The  hunters  and  dogs  then 
scattered  over  some  half  mile  of  level  prairie 
covered  with  low  bunch-grass  in  the  hope  of 
scaring  up  the  "jacks."  The  white-tailed  jack- 
rabbit  is  the  vagabond  of  the  plains,  never  having 
any  real  home.  He  squats  beneath  a  bush,  tuft 
of  grass,  or  clump  of  weeds,  which  serve  for 
food  as  well  as  his  only  home.  In  sunshine  or 
in  rain,  in  cold  or  in  heat,  there  he  sits,  always 
on  the  alert  for  danger,  with  no  other  protection 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

from  his  enemies  or  against  the  weather  for  him- 
self or  little  ones. 

As  the  hunters  rode  on,  one  of  the  hounds 
struck  the  fresh  trail  of  a  jack-rabbit,  and  with 
his  nose  to  the  ground  ran  in  the  direction  of 
a  large  tuft  of  grass.  There,  beside  a  tuft  of 
withered  grass  but  a  few  rods  in  front  of  us,  was 
a  yellowish-gray  object  that  looked  like  a  clump 
of  the  clay  soil.  When  the  dog  was  within  a 
few  feet  of  this  suspicious  looking  object  it  took 
a  great  leap  into  the  air  and  bounded  off.  "  A 
jack  !  a  jack  ! !  hurrah  !  hurrah ! !  "  rang  from  the 
excited  voices  of  a  dozen  young  people  at  the 
same  time.  Then  the  sport  began.  The  jack- 
rabbit  with  his  body  lengthened,  his  long  ears 
erect  and  his  legs  stiffly  extended,  fairly  flew 
over  the  prairie  as  he  sprang  forward  with  aston- 
ishingly long  leaps,  barely  seeming  to  touch  the 
ground  with  his  toes.  The  dogs  took  up  the 
chase,  running  swiftly  and  barking  loudly.  The 
horses  seemed  to  enjoy  the  excitement  quite  as 
much  as  their  riders  as  they  galloped  over  the 
prairie  in  pursuit  of  the  "  flying  "  jack. 

One  of  the  horses  ridden  by  a  half-breed 
Indian  girl  shied  as  a  jack-rabbit  sprang  up  in 
[7*] 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

front  of  him.  The  rider  called  for  her  dog 
and  started  on  the  rabbit's  trail,  shouting  at  the 
top  of  her  voice,  "  That's  my  jack  !  "  One  or 
two  of  the  party  had  joined  her  in  the  pursuit, 
but  now  turned  aside  when  she  claimed  the 
chase.  In  a  moment  she  was  joined  by  one  of 
her  school-mate  admirers,  a  lean,  lank  fellow 
wearing  a  slouch  hat  and  riding  a  yellow  bronco. 
Away  they  went  shouting  and  urging  their  horses 
to  greater  speed  and  encouraging  the  dog,  the 
rabbit  meanwhile  keeping  his  distance  with  his 
long  ears  and  little  white  tail  bobbing  up  and 
down  with  each  leap.  Thus  the  excited,  happy 
young  couple  were  separated  from  the  main 
party  on  their  first  chase.  Soon  another,  and 
then  another  jack  sprang  up  from  its  "  form  " 
amidst  the  main  party,  and  the  hunt  grew  more 
and  more  exciting.  The  hunters  separated  into 
small  groups  as  each  entered  the  chase  for  the 
jack  that  sprang  up  nearest  him.  On  and  on 
they  rode  leaping  over  cocks  of  old  hay  or 
bunches  of  corn-fodder  that  chanced  to  stand 
in  the  field. 

The  girls  and  boys  shouted  with  delight  as 
the  first  rabbit  that  entered  the  chase  was  caught 
[73] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

by  the  dogs.  When  the  singing-teacher  reached 
the  spot  he  struck  the  captured  rabbit  over  the 
head  with  a  stick  and  then  threw  the  first  trophy 
of  the  hunt  over  his  shoulder.  As  he  did  this 
a  frightened  jack  sprang  up  from  beside  a  low 
bunch  of  cactus,  at  the  same  moment  the  sing- 
ing-teacher's horse  struck  out  on  a  gallop  in 
pursuit,  and  man  and  horse  once  more  entered 
an  exciting  race  for  another  jack.  There  were 
now  six  jack-rabbits  in  the  race  for  life.  The 
hunters  were  scattered  over  the  prairie,  and  the 
air  was  made  merry  with  their  shouts  and  laugh- 
ter mingled  with  the  barking  of  the  dogs  that 
echoed  and  reechoed  through  the  ravines  and 
over  the  hills.  The  one  supreme  object  of  each 
hunter  was  to  secure  the  greatest  number  of 
rabbits  during  the  day,  and,  by  so  doing,  gain 
the  honor  of  leading  the  first  chase  on  the  next 
hunt. 

As  they  neared  the  sage-brush  region  the 
rabbits  became  more  numerous.  In  spite  of  all 
the  noise,  they  would  often  depend  upon  their 
protective  coloration  for  safety,  until  the  horses 
would  almost  tread  upon  them.  Then  over- 
come by  fear  they  would  spring  up  so  close  to 
[74] 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

the  hunter  that  they  were  often  struck  down 
with  a  stick  or  a  "  black-snake  whip." 

The  second  jack  in  the  hunt  was  a  brave, 
long-winded  fellow,  who  doubled  back  on  his 
trail  and  gave  his  pursuers  a  hard  run,  but  in 
half  an  hour  the  girl  and  her  companion  again 
joined  the  party.  As  she  approached  she 
proudly  held  a  jack-rabbit  at  arm's  length  for 
the  admiration  of  her  companions.  When 
weighed  it  tipped  the  scale  at  fourteen  pounds, 
being  the  largest  rabbit  any  of  the  party  had 
ever  seen  in  that  region,  the  average  weight  of 
the  prairie  jack-rabbit  being  from  seven  to 
eleven  pounds.  I  shall  never  forget  the  picture 
of  the  French  and  Indian  girl,  flushed  and  ex- 
cited from  the  chase.  She  sat  astride  the  sad- 
dle ;  her  woollen  hood  held  by  its  string  from 
the  saddle-horn ;  her  long,  straight,  black  hair 
loosened  and  blowing  freely  in  the  wind.  The 
boys  and  girls  were  wildly  shouting  and  cheer- 
ing her  for  the  large  catch  when  she  rose  in  her 
saddle  and  threw  the  limp  and  lifeless  animal  to 
her  companion,  saying,  "  He  shot  it,  I  didn't," 
but  her  companion  coloring,  threw  it  back  again 
declaring  the  honor  was  all  hers.  With  the 
[75] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

great  jack  securely  fastened  to  her  saddle-horn, 
the  chase  was  renewed.  In  a  short  time  she 
added  the  second  and  then  a  third  to  her  num- 
ber, carrying  them  over  her  shoulder  securely 
tied  with  a  stout  cord. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when, 
tired  and  hungry,  with  forty-two  jack-rabbits  to 
our  credit,  we  headed  our  horses  homeward,  rid- 
ing in  little  groups,  some  singing  and  others 
talking  over  the  fun  and  the  many  laughable 
things  that  had  happened.  The  French  and 
Indian  girl  proudly  took  the  lead  with  six  jack- 
rabbits  on  her  string.  She  not  only  won  the 
honor  of  the  day,  but  had  caught  the  largest 
jack  ever  seen  in  that  region.  The  school- 
teacher and  the  girl's  lean,  lank  admirer  of  the 
first  chase,  having  each  four  rabbits  apiece,  rode 
on  either  side  of  the  newly  made  "  queen  of  the 
hunt,"  and  several  of  her  less  favored  school- 
boy friends  rode  as  near  as  they  could,  passing 
their  crude  country  compliments,  or  singing 
some  song  in  hope  of  receiving  a  smile  or  even 
a  glance  from  this  honored  belle  of  the  plains. 
They  stopped  at  the  teacher's  home,  where  some 
of  the  rabbits  were  cooked  for  their  dinner,  the 
[76] 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

remainder  being  given  to  the  poor  people  of 
the  district. 

As  the  winter  advanced  the  weekly  jack-rab- 
bit hunts  continued.  One  large  jack  left  the 
prairie  where  she  was  continually  being  chased 
by  the  coyotes  or  the  hunters  with  dogs.  She 
chose  for  her  home  a  near-by  farmyard  with  a 
small  plum-thicket  that  had  imprisoned  a  large 
number  of  tumble-weeds  carried  thither  by  the 
wind.  Under  this  she  would  squat  in  com- 
parative safety.  There  was  another  and  chief 
attraction  on  account  of  which  the  rabbit  se- 
lected this  particular  place  for  her  home.  The 
only  dog  on  the  farm  was  an  old  shepherd  dog 
that  cared  nothing  for  the  sport  of  chasing  rab- 
bits. 

In  winter,  in  the  northern  part  of  their  range, 
the  jack-rabbits'  fur  turns  a  pure  white,  but  in 
the  southern  portion,  where  I  knew  them,  there 
is  seldom  any  noticeable  change  in  color  the 
year  round.  The  jack-rabbit  that  took  up  her 
home  beneath  the  plum-thicket,  was  an  excep- 
tion to  the  rule.  Her  coat  was  plentifully 
sprinkled  with  white  hairs,  from  the  middle  of 
November  until  the  first  of  April  when  most 
[77] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

white  hairs  disappeared.  This  made  her  rather 
conspicuous  as  she  leaped  over  the  snowless  fields 
or  in  the  yard  close  to  the  barn  in  search  of 
food.  In  this  way  she  came  to  be  known  as 
"  White-Jack." 

All  during  the  long  winter  months  White- 
Jack  led  a  solitary  life,  always  on  the  alert, 
and  ready  to  bound  off  at  the  least  suspicious 
sound.  Her  hearing  was  very  keen,  that  being 
one  of  the  rabbit's  chief  means  of  protection. 
She  kept  close  to  her  "  form  "  under  the  plum- 
thicket  and  never  ventured  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile,  unless  chased  by  some  unfriendly 
neighborhood  dog. 

It  had  been  very  cold  for  nearly  a  week;  the 
wind  swept  the  snow  and  loose  soil  across  the 
prairie  in  one  direction  and  then  changed  its 
course  and  swept  it  back  again.  The  lone  rab- 
bit had  eaten  all  the  tender  shoots  and  bark 
from  the  plum  bushes.  Cold  and  hungry  she 
crept  from  the  bare  hiding-place  known  as  her 
home  and  leaped  in  the  direction  of  the  barn- 
yard. The  hens  had  been  fed  indoors  on  ac- 
count of  the  storm.  So  poor  White-Jack 
was  not  to  secure  her  supper  where  she  had 

[78] 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

often  found  a  bountiful  meal  of  kernels  of  wheat 
and  corn.  She  looked  everywhere  about  the 
yard  and  then  leaped  away  as  the  old  shepherd 
dog  appeared  at  the  barn  door.  She  knew  of 
some  sage-brush  and  and  bunch-grass  that  stood 
over  the  hill,  whither  she  went  in  the  hope  of 
appeasing  her  hunger.  A  coyote  chanced  to 
be  looking  for  his  supper  at  the  same  time  and 
he  too  knew  of  the  sage-brush  and  bunch-grass. 
He  did  not  want  a  meal  of  this  sort,  but  he 
knew  that  the  rabbits  did ;  so  he  was  prowling 
about  in  hope  of  surprising  some  unfortunate 
jack-rabbit  at  his  feast  and  thus  securing  his 
own  evening  repast.  White-Jack  leaped  on, 
full  of  hope,  but  all  unconscious  of  the  lurk- 
ing danger.  Her  leaps  became  shorter  and 
the  springs  made  by  her  stiffened  legs  grew 
weaker.  Presently  she  squatted  in  her  tracks 
on  her  haunches  with  a  jerk  to  look  and  listen, 
before  venturing  to  partake  of  the  much  cov- 
eted food  that  was  but  a  few  feet  in  front  of  her. 
There  she  sat  with  one  fore  foot  placed  a  little 
before  the  other  and  her  ears  pointed  in  oppo- 
site directions ;  her  large  eyes  had  a  wild  stare 
and  her  whiskers  stood  straight  out.  There 
[79] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

was  the  food,  but  for  the  moment  the  hunted, 
defenceless  animal,  always  on  the  alert,  feared 
to  trust  herself  to  eat  it.  The  wolf,  concealed 
behind  some  large  tufts  of  bunch-grass,  saw  her 
and  crept  slowly  behind  her  against  the  wind, 
showing  his  teeth  and  licking  his  jaws  as  he 
thought  of  his  expected  supper.  White-Jack 
all  unconscious  of  her  most  dreaded  enemy 
overcame  her  fear,  moved  forward  and  began 
to  eat,  but  never  ceased  to  listen  and  watch. 
The  coyote  drew  nearer  and  with  one  leap 
sprang  at  White-Jack  before  she  had  scarcely 
begun  to  enjoy  the  much  needed  food.  White- 
Jack,  warned  just  in  time  by  her  alert  senses, 
instantly  sprang  forward  with  a  great  leap, 
entirely  clearing  the  sage-brush  and  leaving 
some  twenty  feet  between  herself  and  the 
now  furious  coyote.  On  and  on  with  a  wildly 
beating  heart  the  frightened  White-Jack  leaped 
across  the  prairie  toward  the  friendly  barn- 
yard. In  close  pursuit  came  the  hungry,  dis- 
appointed coyote.  White-Jack  could  see  the 
fierce  yellow  eyes  and  wide  open  mouth  of 
the  coyote  as  he  sprang  at  her  in  the  sage- 
brush and  the  memory  seemed  to  add  new 

[*»] 


I 

£ 

OS 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

strength  to  her  stiffened  muscles  as  she  jumped 
with  greater  and  still  greater  leaps.  The  coy- 
ote continued  to  follow  as  the  rabbit  entered 
the  barnyard  and  found  shelter  under  the 
brush  pile.  The  trembling  hare  crouched  low 
and  peered  out  from  between  the  brush  with  a 
frightened,  hunted  expression  in  her  wild  eyes. 

The  faithful  old  dog,  with  his  mane  bristled 
with  anger,  took  up  the  chase  which  was  now 
turned  upon  the  much  despised  and  hated  coy- 
ote. White-Jack  from  her  safe  retreat  watched 
the  dog  and  coyote  as  they  stopped  to  fight. 
Presently  the  coyote  took  to  his  heels  ;  with  his 
tail  between  his  legs  and  uttering  sharp  yelps  he 
galloped  away.  The  dog  barked  angrily  as  he 
followed  driving  the  cowardly  enemy  off  his 
domain.  When  they  disappeared  over  the  hill 
White-Jack  crept  out  from  under  her  temporary 
shelter  and  made  off  for  her  home.  She  was 
tired  and  still  hungry  but  safe  once  more  from 
the  jaws  of  her  deadly  enemy,  the  coyote. 

A  farmer  who  was  taking  some  shelled  corn 
to  the  mill  met  with  an  accident  to  his  wagon 
and  some  of  the  loose  corn  was  scattered  along 
the  ground.  Toward  evening  it  was  noticed 

[83] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

that  some  twenty-five  or  thirty  white-tailed  jack- 
rabbits  were  feeding  upon  the  corn  that  was  ac- 
cidentally spilt  by  the  farmer  in  the  morning. 
They  seemed  to  take  turns  jumping  about  on 
the  snow  and  eating  corn  while  others  remained 
on  the  alert  and  watched.  If  one  came  too  near 
the  other  gave  him  a  kick  with  one  of  his  long 
hind  legs  or  a  bite  at  his  great  ears.  Jack-rab- 
bits as  a  rule  are  solitary  animals.  It  is  seldom 
that  more  than  two  or  three  are  ever  seen  to- 
gether. 

The  hot  winds  of  the  previous  fall  had  de- 
stroyed much  of  the  vegetation  and  the  jack- 
rabbits  had  suffered  in  consequence  along  with 
other  wild  vegetable-feeding  animals  of  the  plains. 
Thus  hunger  had  driven  them  to  be  sociable  at 
least  once  in  their  lives. 

In  the  spring  a  strange  jack-rabbit  visited  the 
vicinity  that  White-Jack  had  silently  claimed  as 
her  own.  They  were  often  seen  in  company 
and  once  were  seen  together  in  her  home  beneath 
the  plum-thicket.  It  was  late  in  May.  White- 
Jack's  fur  was  now  of  a  yellowish  color.  She 
had  not  been  seen  about  for  several  days.  On 
investigation  it  was  found  there  were  three  little 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

rabbits  in  the  "  form,"  which  consisted  of  grass 
being  well  trodden  down  and  some  of  the 
mother's  fur  scattered  about.  Upon  the  bed  or 
"form,"  as  the  rabbit's  home  is  called,  lay  three 
little  jacks  with  their  eyes  wide  open.  Their 
long  ears  were  laid  back  against  their  heads  and 
their  bodies  were  covered  with  fine,  thick,  silky 
hair.  Shortly  after  this,  in  the  evening,  while 
White-Jack  was  nursing  her  little  ones,  she 
noticed  a  fox  prowling  around  the  field  a  short 
distance  away.  She  knew  it  would  only  be  a 
matter  of  time,  if  this  sly  enemy  remained,  when 
he  would  discover  the  whereabouts  of  her  young; 
so  she  told  them  in  her  own  rabbit  language  that 
there  was  an  enemy  near.  They  ceased  nursing 
and  crawled  among  the  dead  leaves  and  lay  per- 
fectly quiet.  Thus  it  was  very  difficult  to  observe 
them.  The  mother  then  left  them  under  nature's 
care  and  leaped  across  the  field  to  entice  the  fox 
to  a  chase  and  by  so  doing  lead  him  away  from 
her  unprotected  home  and  family.  The  chase 
was  a  long,  hard  one,  but  at  last  brave  White- 
Jack,  long  since  accustomed  to  being  hunted  for 
her  life,  evaded  the  sly  fox  and  returned  to  her 
home  tired  but  unharmed. 
[85] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

One  bright  moonlight  night  the  following 
week  the  unpleasant  odor  of  a  skunk  was  notice- 
able in  the  yard.  The  next  morning  but  two 
of  the  young  rabbits  were  left  to  tell  the  story. 
Skunks  are  very  fond  of  young  rabbits  and  kill 
numbers  of  them.  Shortly  after  this  a  red- 
shouldered  hawk  sailed  around  over  the  yard 
greatly  alarming  the  barn  fowls,  but  it  was  not 
for  the  farmer's  chickens  his  sharp  eyes  were 
peering  down  at  this  time.  Out  in  the  open 
beside  a  piece  of  sod  almost  the  same  color  as 
the  animal,  sat  a  trembling  little  rabbit  humped 
and  motionless,  instinctively  trusting  to  protec- 
tive coloration.  But  the  hawk  saw  it  and  knew 
that  it  was  not  a  part  of  the  sod,  but  a  dainty 
morsel  which  she  desired.  In  a  moment  she 
swooped  down  with  her  graceful  wings  upon  the 
gentle,  inexperienced  little  rabbit  and  bore  it 
away  through  the  air.  The  farmer  placed  a  box- 
trap  for  the  other  one,  caught  it  and  undertook 
to  tame  it ;  but  as  soon  as  the  rabbit  was  large 
enough  it  cleared  a  four-foot  enclosure  in  which 
it  was  confined  and  made  off  across  the  prairie 
to  take  chances  of  life  with  its  natural  freedom. 
A  new  dog  came  to  live  at  the  farm  and  made 
[86] 


WHITE-JACK  AND  COMPANIONS 

it  so  uncomfortable  for  White  Jack  that  she 
was  now  seldom  seen.  After  the  first  fall  of 
snow,  four  partly  white  rabbit's  paws  and  a  little 
tuft  of  a  tail  were  found  and  the  snow  was 
spattered  with  blood  and  marked  by  the  tracks 
of  a  wolf.  Could  it  be  that  White  Jack  had  at 
last  met  her  death  by  the  often  evaded  coyote  ? 
The  story  in  the  snow  read  that  way. 


[87] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

TWO  cowboys  and  a  half-breed  Indian 
were  stopping  for  the  winter  at  the 
"  Lone-Tree  Ranch/*  They  spent  most 
of  their  spare  time  in  watching  and  following 
the  wild  ponies  that  roamed  over  the  rolling 
prairies  of  the  neighborhood.  There  were 
thirty-five  or  more  of  these  proud,  wild  ani- 
mals in  the  band ;  some  were  sorrel,  others  bay, 
and  still  others  yellow  and  iron-gray.  They 
were  led  by  a  gray  stallion  with  a  beautiful 
mane  that  blew  before  the  breeze  in  wild  con- 
fusion; and  his  long  tail  majestically  swept  the 
ground.  By  his  side  was  usually  to  be  seen  a 
beautiful  black  mare.  She  was  the  largest  pony 
in  the  band  and  was  of  Oregon  breed,  a  taller 
and  finer  horse  than  the  ordinary  wild  pony. 
The  mare  was  well  built,  having  straight  shoul- 
[88] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

ders,  long,  slender  legs,  bright,  intelligent  eyes, 
a  sharp  nose  and  large,  wide  nostrils.  A  thick, 
heavy  mane  fell  gracefully  over  her  arched 
neck.  The  only  other  conspicuous  member  of 
the  band  was  a  little,  vicious,  white  pony  who 
followed  along  in  the  rear  in  a  lazy,  indifferent 
manner.  His  coat  was  shaggy  and  rough  and 
mane  and  tail  were  short  and  straggling. 

To  the  west  and  south  of  "Lone-Tree  Ranch" 
the  country  was  rolling  and  hilly ;  to  the  east 
along  the  old  river-bottom  were  beds  of  thick, 
white  sand  ;  and  to  the  north  was  a  long,  barren 
stretch  of  alkali  waste,  dotted  here  and  there 
with  springs  of  caustic  water.  The  only 
"stream  of  pure  water"  for  miles  around  ran 
along  the  foot  of  the  hills  west  of  the  village. 
It  was  from  these  hills  that  the  villagers  and 
near-by  ranchmen  admired  the  beautiful  mare 
as  she  ascended  the  long  incline  to  drink  in 
company  with  the  gray  stallion,  followed  by  the 
rest  of  the  band. 

During  the  open  fall  and  winter  the  ponies 

were  often  seen  in  the  distance,  first  from  one 

knoll,  then  from  another,  as  they  grazed  upon 

the  dry  grass  or  cantered  about  in  play.    When 

[89] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

grazing  on  the  hillside  or  in  the  ravine,  with 
the  black  mare  beside  him,  the  stallion  often 
ran  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  would  stand  with 
his  proud  head  held  high  and  scan  the  prairie  in 
every  direction.  Finding  nothing  to  occasion 
alarm,  the  two  would  paw  the  ground,  bite  at  one 
another  and  run  about  kicking  up  their  heels  in  a 
most  playful  manner.  Then  they  would  descend 
the  hill  together  and  again  join  the  band. 

The  "boys,"  as  the  younger  of  the  two 
young  men  and  the  half-breed  Indian  stop- 
ping at  the  Lone-Tree  Ranch  were  familiarly 
known,  were  bent  on  catching  the  stallion  and 
his  beautiful  companion.  Many  unsuccessful 
attempts  had  been  made  by  cowboys  and  others 
to  capture  these  two  much  coveted  animals. 
A  number  of  the  inferior  ponies  of  the  band 
who  were  not  so  fleet  of  foot  had  been  lassoed 
at  different  times.  But  the  proud  stallion  and 
black  mare  always  escaped,  leaving  their  pursu- 
ers far  behind ;  perchance  one  or  two  of  the  less 
favored  companions  would  be  captured  and  sub- 
dued. The  wild  pony  has  a  remarkably  keen 
vision  and  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  of  any 
of  our  plains  animals  to  approach. 


"  With  the  black  mare  beside  him  the  stal- 
lion often  ran  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and 
would  stand  with  his  proud  head  held  high 
and  scan  the  prairie  in  every  direction" 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

"  Long  Bob,"  the  elder  of  the  two  cowboys, 
a  fine  fellow  with  a  noble  character  despite  his 
rough  exterior,  had  another  and  to  him  a  more 
important  motive  through  which  he  was  deter- 
mined to  capture  the  mare.  The  district  school 
teacher  who  taught  the  village  school  down  by 
the  crossroads  had  expressed  a  desire  to  pos- 
sess the  animal.  Long  Bob  admired  the 
bright,  congenial  girl  and  secretly  hoped  to 
outdo  the  boys  and  gratify  her  desire.  Often 
while  riding  together  over  the  prairie  they 
had  watched  the  spirited  black  steed  from  a 
distance.  Repeatedly  they  rode  up  the  ravines 
or  around  the  hills  in  the  direction  of  the  band, 
but  were  seldom  able  to  approach  nearer  than  a 
mile  of  them.  When  discovered  by  the  gray 
stallion  he  would  raise  his  head,  snort  and 
paw,  then  run  in  the  lead,  whinny  and  take  the 
entire  band  at  full  speed  over  two  or  three 
miles  of  prairie  before  they  stopped.  Then 
they  would  gather  in  a  group  on  the  highest 
elevation  and,  with  the  stallion  in  their  midst, 
rest  or  play  until  they  again  saw  their  pursuers. 
Again  they  would  paw  in  defiance  and  proudly 
gallop  off". 

[93] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

On  one  of  these  trips,  as  Long  Bob  and 
his  companion  rode  along  the  edge  of  a  broad 
alkali  bed,  they  met  a  wise-looking  little  man 
who  said  he  was  from  an  eastern  college  and 
had  come  west  in  the  interest  of  science  to 
search  for  fossil  animals.  He  explained  to 
Long  Bob  and  the  much  interested  school 
teacher  that  ages  ago  the  western  plains  were  a 
country  composed  of  many  comparatively  shal- 
low lakes  bordered  with  rank,  weedy  marshes 
and  that  from  the  fossil  remains  that  had  been 
found  in  this  and  preceding  periods  of  the 
earth's  history  it  has  been  proven  that  the  an- 
tecedent of  the  horse  was  a  little  animal  about 
the  size  of  a  fox,  having  four  toes  and  a  very 
large  head.  This  period  marked  the  beginning 
of  the  great  group  of  vertebrate  animals  which 
includes  man,  the  mammals.  As  the  earth's 
surface  gradually  changed  the  horse,  through  the 
process  of  evolution,  adapted  itself  to  its  envi- 
ronment ;  thus  it  passed  through  gradual  stages 
of  animal  growth  as  the  strongest  and  fleetest 
of  its  kind.  In  its  upward  progress  there  was  an 
increase  in  stature  and  the  size  of  the  brain. 
As  the  food  changed  the  teeth  grew  more  com- 
[94] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

plex.  As  the  land  grew  high  and  dry  it  be- 
came necessary  for  the  animal  to  develop  more 
speed.  The  toes  that  had  been  so  essential  to 
keep  its  owner  from  sinking  into  the  soft  earth 
had  now,  through  the  demand  made  by  its  chang- 
ing environment,  diminished  from  four  to  three 
in  number.  Then  gradually  they  merged  into 
one  solid  toe  or  hoof,  the  most  perfect  con- 
struction for  speed  possessed  by  an  animal. 
While  the  little  Professor  talked  he  succeeded  in 
unearthing  a  fossil  horse's  tooth  that  was  deeply 
imbedded  in  the  alkali  waste. 

The  band  of  wild  ponies  circled  around  and 
were  now  seen  looking  in  their  direction  from  a 
distant  hill.  The  Professor  looked  at  the 
grand  exhibition  of  wild  life,  then  he  turned 
to  Long  Bob  and  his  companion  and  said, 
"We  have  no  proof  that  the  ancient  horse 
lived  at  the  same  time  with  early  man  in  North 
America,  bul  there  are  those  who  believe,  from 
the  many  seemingly  fresh  remains,  that  the 
horse  might  have  lived  in  his  present  wild  state 
on  the  plains  at  the  time  of  the  first  visit  to  the 
country  by  the  Spaniards."  "  But/'  added  the 
Professor,  as  they  were  about  to  leave  him  with 
[95] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

his  ancient  thoughts  and  fossils,  "  the  wild 
ponies  that  roam  over  the  plains  at  the  present 
time  are  descendants  from  the  horses  that 
strayed  away  from  the  Spaniards  at  the  time  of 
their  invasion  and  became  wild."  The  interest 
in  the  ponies  grew  deeper  in  the  minds  of  the 
teacher  and  her  cowboy  friend  as  they  thought 
of  the  ancient  life  and  the  progress  of  the  horse. 
After  that  they  often  talked  over  the  wonderful 
problem  of  life  and  they  were  inspired  with 
new  hopes  and  ambitions  as  they  thought  of 
the  parting  words  of  the  wise  little  Professor. 
"  Living  beings  cannot  stand  still  indefinitely ; 
they  must  progress  or  perish." 

The  cowboys  followed  the  wild  ponies  on 
numerous  occasions  during  the  fall  and  winter, 
but  always  with  barren  results.  The  stallion 
and  mare  were  off  at  first  sight,  closely  followed 
by  the  others  who  ran  with  nearly  equal  speed; 
the  less  fleet  ones  following  along  in  the  rear 
with  the  little,  white  pony.  Thus  they  often 
covered  many  a  mile.  Though  apparently  lost 
in  the  ravines  or  canons,  they  always  reappeared 
on  some  distant  knoll.  It  was  a  veritable  nat- 
ural history  game  of  hide  and  seek. 

[96] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

One  day  late  in  winter,  when  the  school 
teacher  and  her  companion  were  riding  over 
the  prairie  in  quest  of  jack-rabbits,  they  gal- 
loped to  the  top  of  a  hill,  moving  against  the 
wind.  There  at  the  mouth  of  the  canon  stood 
the  stallion  and  the  greatly  coveted  mare,  but  a 
hundred  rods  away  !  The  horses  were  standing 
with  their  backs  towards  the  riders,  the  stallion 
with  his  neck  placed  affectionately  over  that  of 
the  mare.  Here  was  the  cowboy's  chance ! 
Dismounting,  he  drew  a  revolver  from  his  belt 
and  crept  along  in  the  dry  grass,  stopping  a 
short  distance  from  the  horses.  There  he  im- 
patiently waited  for  the  stallion  to  move  his 
head  away  from  the  mare  that  he  might  shoot 
her  through  the  gristle  on  the  top  of  the  neck. 
In  this  way  he  expected  to  stun  her ;  she  would 
probably  fall  and  then  be  easily  captured.  The 
teacher,  trembling  with  suppressed  excitement, 
took  a  rope  from  her  saddle-horn  and  the  rein 
from  her  horse's  bridle;  she  crept  through  the 
grass  and  reached  her  companion's  side.  Each 
moment  seemed  an  hour,  as  the  excited  couple 
waited  for  the  unsuspecting  mare  to  place  herself 
in  the  desired  position.  The  teacher  handed 
[97] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

the  bridle-rein  to  her  companion  to  be  used  in 
strapping  the  mare's  feet,  that  they  might  be 
sure  of  thoroughly  controlling  her ;  through  her 
wild  nature  she  was  a  nervous,  high-spirited 
horse,  and  would  certainly  be  difficult  to  conquer. 
It  is  a  rule,  when  the  wild  pony  is  captured  in 
this  way,  that  the  shock  given  it  when  struck 
by  a  bullet  completely  subdues  it  and  leaves  it 
docile.  The  stallion  now  moved  a  trifle  and 
lovingly  bit  the  mare's  neck.  The  teacher  was 
certain  the  mare  would  move  and  bite  back  at 
him.  This  would  give  her  companion  the  op- 
portunity of  bringing  down  the  beautiful  steed. 
Hurriedly  she  made  a  rope-noose  to  slip  over 
the  mare's  under  jaw  and  by  which  she  expected 
they  would  triumphantly  lead  home  the  sub- 
dued animal.  At  that  very  moment  the  stal- 
lion, still  standing  between  them  and  the  mare, 
turned  his  head  and  with  startled  eyes  looked 
straight  at  his  would-be  captors  ;  on  the  instant 
the  mare  leaped  forward  and  had  passed  under 
the  cliff  with  the  stallion  by  her  side  before  the 
cowboy  could  take  certain  aim.  The  disap- 
pointed couple  ran  back  to  their  ponies, 
mounted  and  galloped  off  in  hot  pursuit.  They 
[98] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

only  saw  the  stallion  and  mare  with  the  re- 
mainder of  the  band  up  the  canon  a  mile  or 
more  in  the  distance  and  running  at  full  speed. 
All  the  following  spring  and  summer  the  ponies 
were  frequently  seen  grazing  upon  the  distant 
hills,  but  no  one  was  known  to  approach  nearer 
to  them  than  a  mile  or  so.  During  the  cold 
winter  months  that  followed  food  for  the  horses 
was  very  scarce.  The  ravines  and  canons 
where  the  longest  and  choicest  grass  is  to  be 
found  were  covered  with  heavy  snows.  The 
wild  ponies  were  driven  by  the  severe  northwest 
storms  to  the  canons  for  shelter.  There,  with 
their  backs  turned  to  the  storm,  they  would 
stand  for  hours  endeavoring  to  keep  warm  and 
for  mutual  protection.  Many  persons  and  very 
many  animals  have  lost  their  lives  in  these  ter- 
rific storms  of  the  plains,  which  come  almost 
without  warning  and  cease  as  suddenly.  Plains 
animals  through  instinct  seek  the  most  available 
shelter  prior  to  a  storm.  Many  a  traveller 
along  four-footed  trails  has  saved  his  life  by 
taking  timely  warning  from  animal  instinct. 

As  the  winter  advanced,  the  ponies  grew  thin 
and  looked  rough  and  shaggy,  save  the  black 
[99] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

mare,  who  never  seemed  to  lose  any  of  her 
plumpness  or  her  sleek  coat.  She  was  all  the 
more  striking  by  contrast  when  seen  upon  the 
snow-covered  or  bare  brown  hills,  seeking  food 
when  the  weather  would  permit,  in  company 
with  her  companions.  The  ponies  kept  close 
together  for  mutual  protection  against  the  coy- 
otes who  often  attacked  them  in  great  num- 
bers. They  followed  the  band  for  days  at  a 
time,  waiting  a  chance  to  fall  upon  the  first 
pony  that  became  too  weak  or  crippled  to  keep 
up  with  his  companions.  They  also  ate  such 
of  their  own  kind  as  were  killed  by  being 
kicked  or  trampled  upon  by  the  frantic  ponies. 
When  the  life  of  a  coyote  was  thus  ended  his 
nearby  associates  at  once  turned  their  attention 
to  him,  ferociously  tearing  him  to  pieces,  speed- 
ily leaving  only  bones.  Then  with  new  strength 
and  zeal  they  again  joined  their  companions  in 
the  general  attack.  Many  a  pony,  weak  through 
lack  of  nourishment  and  the  inclement  weather, 
had  his  winter  struggle  ended  as  he  became  a 
meal  for  a  hungry  band  of  prowling  prairie 
wolves.  Natural  enemies  are  cruel,  blood- 
thirsty, ravenous,  insatiable. 

[100] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

When  spring  came,  the  boys  with  a  number 
of  other  neighbors  started  on  a  final  "run 
down,"  determined  on  capturing  the  long- 
sought  mare.  Each  was  mounted  on  his  best 
horse,  with  a  long  lasso-rope  coiled  around  the 
saddle-horn.  They  rode  in  the  direction  of  the 
ponies'  range,  keeping  well  under  cover  of  the 
hills  much  of  the  way.  Several  women,  includ- 
ing the  teacher,  were  in  the  party ;  they  were 
bent  on  witnessing  the  capture  of  the  famous 
and  much  admired  mare.  The  band  was  ob- 
served feeding  upon  a  slight  elevation  when 
the  party  emerged  from  the  cover  of  a  friendly 
canon.  All  riding  at  top  speed,  were  soon  in 
the  midst  of  the  band,  the  teacher's  admirer  in 
the  lead.  He  spurred  his  horse  to  its  utmost 
speed  as,  with  lasso  in  hand,  he  rushed  among 
the  surprised  and  rapidly  scattering  band  in 
pursuit  of  the  black  mare.  She,  with  the  stal- 
lion by  her  side,  was  almost  aimlessly  running 
with  long,  graceful  strides.  The  women,  shout- 
ing with  excitement,  followed  in  the  distance. 
Long  Bob  and  the  boys  were  in  pursuit  of 
the  beautiful  mare  and  her  gallant  defender,  the 
gray  stallion.  As  they  sped  over  the  prairies 
[101] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

in  their  wild  race  for  freedom,  the  mare  and 
stallion  became  separated.  Long  Bob,  en- 
couraging his  horse  to  renewed  speed,  swept  by 
the  other  boys  and  gradually  gained  on  the 
fleeing  mare.  The  wild  ponies  were  at  a  great 
disadvantage;  the  scarcity  of  food  and  exposure 
had  both  lessened  their  numbers  and  in  a 
measure  weakened  them.  The  pursuers,  with 
well-fed  ponies,  rapidly  gained  upon  the  fleeing 
animals  and  in  a  brief  time  several  of  the  band, 
among  them  the  vicious  little  white  pony,  were 
under  the  power  of  the  lasso.  But  not  so  with 
the  black  mare;  on  and  on  she  ran  over  hills 
and  across  the  sand-beds,  with  as  much  ease  as 
an  ordinary  domestic  horse  bounds  over  a 
smooth  pavement,  leaving  a  cloud  of  white  dust 
between  her  and  her  pursuer.  She  entered  a 
ravine  and  for  a  time  was  lost  to  view.  The 
boys,  fearing  the  mare  would  make  good  her  es- 
cape, turned  from  their  race  for  the  flying  stallion 
to  aid  their  companion.  They  galloped  across  the 
prairie  to  head  the  mare  from  entering  the  alkali 
beds,  where  pursuit  would  be  most  difficult  and 
trying;  when  the  fleeing  mare  emerged  from  the 
ravine  and  saw  the  boys  riding  in  her  direction, 

[102] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

she  turned  and  flew  back  around  the  sand-beds 
and  along  a  level  stretch  of  country,  across  a 
prairie-dog  town,  avoiding  the  treacherous  holes 
with  skilled  ease.  On  and  on  she  ran  back  to- 
ward their  old  stamping-ground  and  the  river, 
with  the  boys  in  hot  pursuit.  When  Long 
Bob  met  the  teacher  they  exchanged  horses; 
with  the  fresh  mount  he  rapidly  gained  on  the 
tired  mare  and  with  one  swing  of  the  long  lasso 
she  was  caught  on  the  very  hill  where  proud, 
wild  and  free  she  had  been  so  much  admired. 
In  her  frenzied  efforts  to  escape  she  forcibly 
threw  herself  to  the  ground  when  she  had  run 
the  length  of  the  rope.  Dismounting,  her  cap- 
tor ran  to  her  and  strapped  her  fore  feet  to- 
gether. The  spirited  animal  plunged  and 
fought  and  squealed  in  a  vain  effort  to  free  her- 
self, while  her  sleek  black  coat  became  thickly 
covered  with  white  foam  and  dirt.  While  pass- 
ing a  rope-noose  around  the  mare's  under  jaw 
a  piece  of  her  lower  lip  was  accidentally  torn 
away.  This  naturally  added  to  the  excited  and 
frenzied  condition  of  the  animal.  She  plunged 
and  fought  until  completely  exhausted ;  trem- 
bling with  broken  pride,  great  tears  rolled  down 
[103] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

her  cheeks.  While  thus  subdued,  Long  Bob 
burned  the  letter  "  R,"  which  was  his  regis- 
tered brand,  on  the  quivering  hide  on  the 
left  flank  of  the  mare.  As  the  teacher  bent 
over  the  suffering  brute,  the  true  sympathy  of 
the  woman  went  out  for  the  captured  animal; 
all  her  expected  pleasure  of  possession  fled  be- 
fore her  stronger  feeling  of  pity  and  remorse. 
Could  she  but  snatch  away  the  branded  "  R  " 
that  was  forever  to  mar  that  beautiful,  glossy 
black  coat  and  again  see  the  mare  proud  and 
free  !  She  felt  willing  to  make  almost  any  sac- 
rifice, but  it  was  now  too  late.  Never  again 
was  the  beautiful  mare  to  roam  at  liberty  over 
the  great  expanse  of  prairie ;  never  again  to 
have  her  chosen  companion.  Shorn  of  her 
free,  wild  grandeur,  the  remainder  of  her  life 
must  be  at  the  service  of  master  man,  under  his 
will  and  command. 

When  the  stallion  found  he  was  not  pursued 
he  turned  and  ran  back  within  full  view  of  the 
mare,  following  at  a  distance  to  the  end  of  the 
exciting  "run  down."  Then  from  a  near-by 
knoll  he  pawed  the  earth,  whinnied  and  ran 
in  a  circle  in  a  most  aimless  and  grief- stricken 
[104] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

manner.  Presently  he  stopped,  looked  in  the 
direction  of  the  prostrate  mare,  snorted  and 
pawed  the  earth.  He  whinnied  and  whinnied, 
coming  nearer  and  nearer  in  his  fruitless  effort 
to  again  call  to  his  side  his  lost  companion. 
Presently  the  animal  was  freed  so  she  could  rise 
to  her  feet  and  in  company  with  her  likewise 
captured  associates  they  were  driven  to  the  cor- 
ral on  the  Lone-Tree  Ranch.  The  teacher 
rode  beside  the  elated  possessor  of  the  black 
mare.  Her  heart  still  ached  for  the  seemingly 
crushed  and  subdued  animal.  She  was  a  sincere 
admirer  of  her  one  inseparable  companion,  the 
plains  pony  and  loved  a  horse  as  only  a  western 
woman  could.  With  deep  sympathy  she  marked 
the  change  in  the  proud-spirited  mare  in  her 
wild  state  and  beauty,  gracefully  cantering  with 
her  head  high  held  beside  the  gray  stallion  and 
the  now  trembling,  maimed,  crestfallen  and 
spiritless  animal  covered  with  dirt  and  foam. 
Burdened  with  these  thoughts,  the  teacher  was 
robbed  of  much  of  the  expected  pleasure  when 
the  cowboy  gallantly  presented  her  with  the 
long  wished-for  animal.  With  tender  love  and 
sympathy  she  approached  the  trembling  horse, 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

with  its  quivering  and  bleeding  lip,  and  looked 
long  and  steadily  into  the  liquid  eyes  of  the  captive. 
Whether  there  was  anything  in  this  I  know  not, 
but  their  souls  seemed  to  meet,  the  dumb  and  the 
ruler.  The  teacher  tenderly  bathed  the  torn  lip 
and  made  the  mare  as  comfortable  as  she  could. 
In  the  days  that  followed  the  animal  regained  her 
spirit,  but  grew  more  nervous  and  vicious.  The 
firm,  persistent  patience  of  the  teacher  won  the 
confidence  and  love  of  the  mare  at  length  and 
with  comparatively  little  difficulty  she  was  broken 
to  ride  and  drive.  She  lost  none  of  her  fleetness 
in  her  captive  state  and  was  known  as  one  of 
the  best  trotters  in  that  country.  There  were 
few  who  saw  her  that  could  resist  the  temptation 
of  endeavoring  to  persuade  the  teacher  to  part 
with  her  possession.  The  horse  seemed  never 
to  forget  that  it  was  a  man  who  had  captured 
her  and  would  bite  and  paw  at  any  man  who 
attempted  to  enter  her  stall  or  to  catch  her  when 
in  the  corral.  No  man  was  ever  able  to  touch 
her  back  as  a  rider.  The  men  who  tried  came 
near  paying  for  the  effort  to  do  so  with  their 
lives.  One  unfortunate  cowboy  was  thrown 
and  seriously  injured.  He  would  have  been 
[106] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

pawed  to  death  on  the  spot  only  for  the  timely 
interference  of  the  teacher.  In  the  animal's 
most  excited  moments  the  sound  of  the  teacher's 
voice  would  always  calm  her.  She  was  the  first 
in  her  subdued  state  to  soothe  her,  the  first  to 
give  her  food  and  comfort  and  the  first  and  only 
one  who  ever  loved  and  mastered  her.  Between 
them  existed  a  human,  not  brute,  confidence. 

The  stallion  and  the  few  remaining  followers 
were  soon  captured  by  being  driven  into  a  corral 
made  for  that  purpose.  They  were  the  last  of 
the  wild  ponies  in  that  region.  But  the  memory 
of  the  proud  animals  in  nature's  freedom  never 
will  be  forgotten. 

The  little  white  pony  was  purchased  by  an 
eastern  visitor  who,  wishing  to  improve  his  ap- 
pearance, had  undertaken  to  shear  his  shaggy 
white  coat,  cutting  it  into  layers,  or  "little 
steps  "  as  the  children  expressed  it.  The  man 
was  very  desirous  of  having  his  sister  ride  the 
pony  and  asked  the  school-teacher  if  she  would 
attempt  riding  the  animal  until  it  became  accus- 
tomed to  a  woman  upon  its  back.  The  young 
lady  readily  consented,  enjoying  nothing  better 
than  a  bit  of  excitement  as  this  venture  promised 
['07] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

to  be.  Early  one  morning  she  saddled  the 
thin,  hide-bound,  stupid-looking,  pink-eyed 
pony  and  attempted  to  start  for  a  neighboring 
farm-house.  The  pony  not  being  of  the  same 
mind  as  his  rider,  braced  his  fore-feet  and  with 
his  head  lowered  stubbornly  refused  to  move. 
When  persistently  urged  he  let  fly  his  hind  feet 
several  times  in  genuine  bronco  fashion  —  then 
started  off  on  a  slow,  hard  trot  that  rattled  the 
rider's  teeth  and  shook  her  up  generally.  Pres- 
ently he  seemed  to  think  it  was  time  to  stop 
and  with  his  head  down  stood  perfectly  motion- 
less amid  blows  and  forcible  pulling  by  the  bit. 
Then  without  warning,  when  it  was  least  ex- 
pected, he  sprang  forward  with  the  bit  between 
his  teeth  and  ran  for  several  miles  at  top  speed  ; 
with  one  final  spring,  he  unceremoniously  braced 
his  fore-feet  and  came  to  a  standstill,  throwing 
the  rider  almost  out  of  the  saddle  and  over 
his  head.  After  this  he  seemed  convinced  that 
he  was  not  to  part  company  with  his  mount. 
He  loped  along  at  an  easy  gait  in  the  most  ap- 
proved way  until  they  reached  their  destination. 
It  rained  all  that  night  and  the  following  day. 
During  this  time  the  pony  had  been  stabled 
[108] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

and  well  fed.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  teacher 
arranged  to  take  her  departure  and  wished  to 
return  home  in  a  cart;  having  been  told  that 
the  pony  was  well  broken  to  drive  she  hooked 
him  to  a  vehicle  and  pulling  the  rein  through 
the  bridle  tied  the  little  brute  to  a  hitching- 
post  until  ready  to  start.  When  these  plains 
ponies  or  broncos,  as  they  are  called,  are  allowed 
to  stand  for  a  few  days  and  are  well  fed  all 
their  wild  spirit  returns  and  they  must  again 
be  subdued.  The  teacher  neglected  to  take 
this  fact  into  consideration,  untied  the  horse 
in  her  accustomed  manner,  when  the  vicious 
pony  bit  and  struck  at  her  with  his  fore-feet, 
then  sprang  forward  and  ran  around  the  yard 
kicking  in  an  endeavor  to  free  himself  from  the 
cart,  pulling  the  teacher  along.  She  firmly  held 
on  to  the  rein  that  had  slipped  some  distance 
through  her  hands.  When  the  frenzied  pony 
reached  a  large  corn-pile  that  stood  in  the  yard 
he  turned  sharply,  throwing  the  teacher  flat  upon 
the  rough  ears  of  corn  and  pulling  the  strap  out 
of  her  hand.  The  pony  ran  around  the  yard 
and  made  straight  for  the  stoop,  where  the 
women  of  the  family  stood,  waving  their  sun- 
[109] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

bonnets  and  screaming  in  alarm.  He  then 
made  a  complete  circle,  coming  back  by  the 
hitching-post  and  catching  the  wheel  of  the  cart 
on  the  timber,  throwing  himself  on  his  side  in 
the  mud.  Now  the  teacher  had  regained  her 
-feet  and  running  to  the  pony  sat  on  its  head 
until  help  could  be  summoned.  After  con- 
siderable difficulty  and  danger  the  teacher  and 
her  friends  succeeded  in  freeing  the  animal  from 
the  obnoxious  cart  and  harness.  Still  vicious 
and  defiant  the  pony,  covered  with  mud,  was 
led  back  to  his  owner  by  the  tired  and  greatly 
disgusted  young  woman.  The  man  from  the 
East  did  not  appreciate  or  understand  the  real 
nature  of  a  plains  pony.  He  never  forgave  the 
treatment  that  western  girl  gave  his  highly 
prized  horse,  for  which  he  had  paid  the  regal 
sum  of  twelve  dollars  ! 

The  teacher  traded  the  black  mare  to  a  Meth- 
odist preacher  who  had  long  desired  the  high- 
stepper,  but  soon  learned  to  his  sorrow  that 
the  spirited  animal  would  not  forget  her  be- 
loved mistress ;  she  grew  both  vicious  and 
dangerous.  She  changed  hands  several  times 
and  at  last  was  sold  at  auction  to  a  young  man 

[MO] 


WILD  PONIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

who,  not  knowing  her  reputation,  laughingly 
made  a  small  bid  "just  to  start  the  thing  ago- 
ing," and  his  being  the  only  bid  made  he  was 
obliged  to  complete  his  purchase. 

Later  the  teacher  returned  and  hearing  of 
the  fate  of  her  long  loved  pony,  rode  out  with 
her  present  owner  to  see  her.  The  mare  was 
on  the  lariat  when  she  saw  the  teacher  and  heard 
her  call ;  she  whinnied  and  ran  excitedly  to 
meet  her.  The  anxious  animal  came  to  the  end 
of  her  rope  with  such  force  that  she  pitched 
forward  and  fell,  breaking  her  neck.  She  died 
in  an  effort  to  reach  the  only  person  who  had 
ever  loved  or  understood  how  to  manage  her. 
In  her  wild  state  she  had  been  admired  by  all 
who  saw  her,  but  in  captivity  she  had  been  hated 
and  feared  by  all  save  one. 


[in] 


BUFFALOES 

THE  great  herds  of  buffalo  were  a  thing 
of  the  past.    All  that  remained  of  these 
huge  animals  were  a  few  scattered,  small 
herds,  each  consisting  of  not  more  than  one  or 
two  dozen  individuals.    These  stupid  monarchs 
of  the  plains,  after  millions  of  their  noble  family 
had  been  slaughtered,  had  learned  to  keep  close 
to  the  canons  and  away  from  the  relentless  robe- 
hunter  and  the  Indian. 

A  little  band  of  three  cows  and  six  old  bulls 
made  their  feeding-ground  near  our  claim. 
They  were  often  seen  mingling  with  the  domestic 
cattle  when  they  roamed  over  the  prairie  during 
the  fall  and  winter.  As  I  repeatedly  watched 
them  feeding  at  a  distance  over  the  divide,  I 
was  moved  to  sympathy  and  pity  for  the  poor 
brutes  that  in  so  short  a  time  had  been  reduced 

[1,2] 


BUFFALOES 

from  the  companionship  of  lordly  herds.  They 
were  one  of  the  few  bands  left  as  a  reminder  of 
the  countless  numbers  that  but  a  few  years  be- 
fore had  held  the  country  for  miles  and  miles  as 
their  own  undisputed  domain. 

Repeatedly  1  listened  with  interest  as  Casper, 
an  old  plainsman  who  for  several  years  made  his 
home  with  us,  would  tell  me  of  a  thrilling  ex- 
perience we  had  in  the  spring  of  1871.  I  was 
but  a  babe  in  my  mother's  arms  at  the  time. 
But  it  has  been  so  deeply  impressed  upon  my 
imagination  it  seems  as  though  I  must  have  felt 
and  understood  it.  Early  one  morning  a  much 
frightened  and  excited  ranchman  rode  to  our 
"dugout"  and  informed  us  that  he  had  shot 
two  Sioux  Indians  out  of  a  party  of  five  who 
had  been  stealing  some  of  his  cattle.  He  feared 
there  would  be  an  Indian  "outbreak"  and  was 
warning  the  settlers  that  they  might  prepare  to 
go  to  the  Fort  for  protection  until  peace  again 
reigned.  In  those  days  the  frontiersman  was 
never  free  from  the  anxiety  of  attack  by  some 
band  of  hostile  Indians.  Many  a  defenceless 
farmer  or  his  lone  family  during  these  Indian 
"outbreaks"  lost  their  lives  through  a  sneak- 
["3] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

ing,  blood-thirsty  warrior  on  his  mission  of  re- 
venge. 

As  soon  as  the  appalling  news  of  the  rash  act 
of  the  ranchman  was  known,  hurried  prepara- 
tions were  made  for  our  departure.  With  pale, 
anxious  faces  each  would  stop  and  listen  to 
every  strange  sound,  momentarily  expecting  to 
be  surprised  by  the  infuriated  savages.  At  last 
the  few  necessary  things  were  gathered  together 
into  a  covered  wagon  and  with  the  neighbors 
who  had  joined  us  we  were  soon  on  our  way 
across  the  plains  to  the  Fort. 

As  we  rode  along  in  the  hot  sun  we  noticed 
many  small,  black  objects  looming  up  in  the  dis- 
tance and  as  often  feared  they  might  prove  to  be 
a  band  of  hostile  Indians.  In  a  short  time, 
however,  the  objects  became  plainer  when  it 
was  seen  they  were  great  herds  of  buffalo  num- 
bering many  thousand  head  slowly  moving 
northward.  The  prairie  was  literally  dotted  with 
the  huge  forms  of  these  noble  animals  almost 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  When  we  drew 
nearer  to  them  we  saw  the  larger  herd  was 
separated  into  many  smaller  ones  with  the  bulls 
of  each  group  on  the  outside  of  their  own 


BUFFALOES 

flock.  Thus  they  grazed  slowly  moving.  Since 
they  were  travelling  away  from  us  the  men  in 
our  party  thought  we  would  be  able  to  pass 
them  without  alarm.  During  the  afternoon  a 
stray  buffalo  heifer  was  shot  by  one  of  our  ad- 
vance guards.  We  were  about  to  stop  on  the 
banks  of  a  stream  for  supper  when  one  of  the 
buffalo  herds,  a  mile  in  the  distance,  reached  a 
swell  on  the  undulating  prairie.  From  this  ele- 
vation some  of  the  more  advanced  cows  noticed 
us.  The  cows  are  always  most  watchful  and 
are,  as  a  rule,  the  first  to  notice  approaching 
danger.  Presently  the  bulls  began  to  roar  and 
the  cows  to  bellow.  Then  they  took  fright  and 
started  in  one  mad  rush  toward  us  bringing  all 
the  others  with  them  as  they  passed  through 
their  ranks.  The  herds  gathered  together  into 
one  great  mass  and  as  they  ran  the  bulls  of  the 
smaller  bands  gradually  worked  themselves  to 
the  outside.  On  and  on  they  came  in  their 
wild  stampede  !  Thousands  upon  thousands  of 
these  big,  awkward  animals  with  their  clumsy, 
lumbering  gallop  and  their  great,  shaggy  manes 
and  heads  lowered  in  most  ferocious  attitude, 
snorting  and  bellowing  amidst  a  tremendous 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

cloud  of  dust  were  sweeping  down  upon  our 
defenceless  little  party  of  twenty-seven  men, 
women  and  children.  It  seemed  the  animals 
would  shortly  trample  us  to  death  in  their  fren- 
zied flight.  Most  of  the  men  were  cursing  at 
the  frightened,  plunging  horses  and  oxen  and 
the  children  were  screaming  while  their  mothers 
prayed.  Above  it  all  rose  the  commanding 
voice  of  your  father  as  he  ordered  those  who 
were  armed  to  shoot  at  the  animals  in  the  hope 
of  saving  our  lives  when  the  herd  was  almost 
upon  us.  As  they  approached  we  repeatedly 
shot  into  the  leading  portion  of  the  mass.  The 
advancing  animals  separated  and  passed  on 
either  side  of  us,  leaped  across  the  stream  and 
galloped  on  over  the  prairie.  Within  a  half 
hour  they  had  passed  by  leaving  us  frightened 
and  dirty  but  unharmed.  When  we  came  upon 
the  divide  we  saw  in  the  distance  the  great  herd 
quietly  feeding  until  darkness  shut  them  from 
our  view. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  a  trading-post  was 

established  upon  the  east  bank  of  the  river  near 

our  claim.     From  the  door  of  our  "dugout" 

and  facing  the  west  was  a  beautiful  view  of  the 

[1,6] 


BUFFALOES 

sloping  prairie  with  a  typical  western  village  in 
the  distance  with  several  small  shanties,  one  of 
which  had  a  "lean-to"  and  was  used  for  the 
post-office  and  hotel.  A  general  store,  two 
saloons,  blacksmith-shop  and  sod  school-house, 
that  was  also  used  as  a  place  of  worship  on  Sun- 
days, all  strung  along  on  either  side  of  its  one 
crooked  street  constituted  this  little  trading-post 
that  was  seventy  miles  from  the  nearest  railroad. 
Between  the  town  and  the  river  was  a  strip  of 
fine  white  sand  with  its  miniature  crystal  grains 
brilliantly  sparkling  in  the  sunlight.  Then 
came  the  river  with  its  swiftly  flowing  current, 
treacherous  quicksands  and  its  banks  bordered 
with  tall  cottonwood  trees;  here  and  there  was 
a  clump  of  willows  or  a  box-elder;  beyond  were 
the  long  green  hills  that  made  the  horizon. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  plains  is  so  clear  one  can 
readily  discern  objects  at  a  surprisingly  great 
distance.  Several  years  had  passed ;  one  of  my 
earliest  childhood  recollections  was  one  evening 
when  we  sat  watching  this  grand  scene  while  the 
sun  sank  beneath  the  horizon  leaving  the  sky 
with  a  ruddy  glow  that  was  reflected  upon  the 
water.  Meanwhile  time  passed  and  darkness 
C»7] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

crept  over  the  landscape;  all  was  still  and  quiet 
save  the  sweet,  sad  call  of  the  turtle-dove. 

In  the  morning  when  we  awoke  all  was 
changed.  A  familiar  scene  was  spread  before 
us.  The  beautiful,  green  hillside  beyond  the 
river  was  thickly  populated.  A  quaint,  white 
village  had  sprung  up  from  the  ground  during 
the  night.  This  white  city  was  composed  of 
hundreds  of  "tepees"  pitched  by  a  large  band  of 
Indians  who  had  come  to  the  Post  for  the  pur- 
pose of  trading.  Around  their  tepees  were 
many  dogs  and  scores  of  horses  were  grazing  on 
the  nearby  hillside. 

The  Indians  brought  numbers  of  buffalo 
robes  with  them  to  trade  for  blankets,  beads 
and  the  many  trinkets  that  chanced  to  take  their 
fancy.  They  generally  stayed  for  several  days 
and  during  this  time  feasted  and  danced  within 
their  village.  Most  of  the  robes  they  offered 
in  barter  had  been  secured  during  the  winter 
when  the  fur  is  in  its  best  condition.  At  this 
time  the  Indians  hunted  the  buffalo  when  they 
gathered  in  the  ravines  and  canons  to  feed  and 
were  overtaken  by  the  heavy  snow  that  is  not 
easily  piled  into  great  drifts  by  the  wind  in  these 
['lit] 


BUFFALOES 

low  places.  Through  this  snow  the  progress  of 
the  buffalo  was  retarded  and  the  Indians  sur- 
rounding them  on  foot  killed  vast  numbers  with 
little  difficulty. 

The  great  numbers  of  buffalo  that  roamed  the 
prairie  in  '71  were  rapidly  disappearing  under 
the  destructive  hands  of  the  relentless  robe- 
hunters  and  Indians.  The  few  thousand  that 
then  remained  confined  themselves  to  the 
prairies  of  western  Kansas,  the  Indian  Territory 
and  northwestern  Texas — save  by  chance  a  lone 
old  bull  or  a  few  stragglers  that  had  become 
separated  from  the  main  herds  and  wandered 
away  through  the  canons  in  self-protection  as 
had  the  little  band  that  were  such  familiar  ob- 
jects near  our  claim. 

In  six  years'  time  practically  all  that  was  left 
of  the  great  herds  was  their  bones  bleached 
white  by  the  sun  and  the  elements.  The  deep 
ruts  that  were  made  by  them  in  travelling  in 
single  file  over  the  same  path  and  the  smooth 
round  depressions  made  by  the  animals  tearing 
up  the  dirt,  generally  in  moist  places,  and  then 
rolling  in  the  depression  afterward  to  cool  the 
body  and  rid  themselves  of  insect  pests,  were 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

everywhere  to  be  seen.  These  depressions  are 
known  as  "buffalo  wallows."  As  time  passed 
the  older  wallows  were  rilled  with  vegetation  and 
loose  soil  washed  from  the  surrounding  eleva- 
tions and  a  rich  growth  of  plant  life  more  lux- 
urious and  green  than  that  surrounding  it  could 
be  found. 

One  day  while  we  were  watching  the  little 
group  of  buffalo  on  the  divide  Casper  with  a  far- 
away look  in  his  moist  eyes,  said  "  I  remember 
when  great  herds  of  those  noble  animals  roamed 
over  this  very  ground.  It  was  late  in  the  'six- 
ties'; a  herd  numbering  several  thousand  came 
roaring  and  galloping  down  this  slope  and  made 
straight  for  the  river.  As  they  crossed  the  sand 
a  white  cloud  of  dust  completely  hid  the  leaders; 
on  they  went  heedlessly  plunging  into  the 
shallow  water  and  were  soon  rapidly  sinking  into 
the  treacherous  quicksand,  others  blindly  fol- 
lowed right  on  top  of  their  struggling  and  rapidly 
disappearing  companions;  then  came  still  others 
urged  on  by  those  immediately  behind  them  and 
so  on  until  large  numbers  of  the  stupid  animals 
had  thus  lost  their  lives,  in  their  headlong,  de- 
termined flight.  The  others  floundering  among 

[120] 


BUFFALOES 

the  dead  and  dying,  or  floating  with  the  current, 
at  last  reached  the  opposite  shore  and  started  up 
the  hill  —  only  to  be  met  by  a  party  of  robe- 
hunters  who  were  camped  near  by.  The  un- 
fortunate animals  fell  thick  and  fast  under  the 
deadly  aim  of  these  plains  huntsmen.  In  less 
than  half  an  hour  there  were  nearly  two  hundred 
dead  animals  strewn  upon  the  hillside.  Many 
of  the  noble  creatures  that  succeeded  in  getting 
away  foolishly  returned  and  stood  in  the  distance 
stupidly  gazing  at  their  dead  companions  until 
they  were  again  pursued  and  fared  the  same 
fate.  The  following  day  all  that  was  left  of  this 
great  herd  were  the  hideless  bodies  surrounded 
by  wolves,  vultures  and  other  animals;  and 
those  that  floated  in  the  current,  with  their  large, 
white,  sightless  eyes  turned  heavenward.  One 
old  bull  was  held  in  a  vise  of  sand  where  he  had 
died  in  a  struggle  to  free  himself  while  all  around 
him  his  struggling  companions  sank  lower  and 
lower  in  the  bottomless  sand  groaning  and  snort- 
ing for  breath  until  they  were  at  last  engulfed. 
For  days  the  old  bull  stood  in  midstream  a  last 
reminder  of  the  great  mass  of  life  that  in  a  single 
day  had  been  swept  from  the  prairie.  This  was 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

shortly  to  be  the  sad  fate  of  all  their  kind.  The 
carrion  birds  feasted  and  the  odor  of  decaying 
flesh  tainted  the  air." 

The  buffalo  was  indispensable  to  the  plains 
Indian  in  his  natural  state.  It  furnished  his 
principal  article  of  food,  while  the  robes  were 
used  for  his  lodge,  his  clothing,  his  saddles  and 
his  bedding ;  the  skin  scraped  free  from  the  hair 
was  cut  in  strips  and  was  made  to  serve  as  lariats 
and  lassoes.  The  horns  and  bones  were  con- 
verted into  spoons,  knives  and  other  useful 
articles.  There  were  a  number  of  ways  in  which 
the  Indians  killed  the  buffalo.  One  method  was 
to  surround  them.  They  would  mount  their  best 
trained  "  buffalo  horses  "  and  armed  with  bow  and 
arrow  —  but  later,  when  white  men  invaded  their 
domain,  with  firearms  obtained  from  them — ride 
around  gradually  enclosing  the  herd  when  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time  and  with  comparatively 
few  accidents  they  would  bring  the  entire  mass  of 
unfortunate  animals  to  the  ground.  At  other 
times  they  would  indulge  in  the  sport  of  racing 
for  them  on  their  fleetest  ponies,  or  disguised 
under  buffalo  robes  or  wolf  skins  creep  amidst 
the  wondering  unsuspecting  herd.  The  stupid 

[122] 


BUFFALOES 

animals  would  generally  stand  until  many  were 
dropped  by  the  sure  aim  of  the  Indians'  arrows. 
The  little  band  that  fed  near  my  childhood 
home,  long  since  made  shy  by  ruthless  slaughter, 
could  be  seen  almost  any  pleasant  day  during 
the  winter  feeding  near  or  with  our  cattle.  In 
the  latter  part  of  March,  I  noticed  one  day  that 
a  little  buffalo  calf  had  been  added  to  the  herd ; 
by  the  last  of  June  there  were  two  more  calves 
gamboling  around  their  proud,  devoted  mothers. 
There  was  a  deep,  narrow  gulch  at  the  head  of 
the  canon  known  to  the  settlers  as  "  The  Devil's 
Gap."  One  warm  day  in  early  summer  one  of 
the  old  buffalo  bulls  walked  to  the  edge  of  the 
Gap  and  stood  stupidly  and  vacantly  gazing 
for  some  time.  Presently  he  lowered  himself 
on  one  knee  and  began  tearing  the  earth  with 
his  short  stout  horns.  When  he  had  dug  up  a 
foot  of  the  clay  it  became  moist  for  there  was  a 
spring  of  water  that  trickled  out  from  the  side 
of  the  Gap  but  a  few  feet  below  him.  When 
the  old  bull  struck  the  wet  sub-soil  he  threw  up 
the  dirt  for  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  around,  then 
lay  down  in  the  soft  depression  and  began  to 
"wallow."  One  after  another  the  huge  animals 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

followed  their  old  leader  and  wallowed  in  the 
cool  mud,  rolling  over  and  over  until  they  had 
plastered  their  brown,  woolly,  fur  coats  almost 
smooth  with  the  sticky  yellow  clay.  The  little 
calves  soon  learned  to  partake  of  this  refreshing 
and  soothing  "buffalo  bath/* 

During  the  summer  a  number  of  Indians 
came  on  horseback  to  our  little  band  of  buffalo, 
as  I  was  very  fond  of  calling  them,  and  killed 
two  of  the  cows.  When  the  herd  broke  and 
ran  one  of  the  little  calves  became  separated 
from  the  others.  Seeing  it,  Casper  mounted 
his  horse  and  rode  in  pursuit.  The  calf  ran  for 
some  distance  but  was  soon  headed  and  driven 
to  the  house.  He  became  very  tame  in  time 
and  was  a  great  pet  in  our  Barnyard.  He  was 
fed  with  milk  which  he  sucked  from  my  hand 
until  taught  to  drink  from  the  pail.  Shortly 
after  this  while  Casper  and  I  were  riding  over 
the  divide  another  of  the  calves  was  found  with 
his  head  stuck  into  a  clump  of  sage  brush — a 
common  habit  when  pursued.  They  imagined, 
seemingly,  that  if  their  heads  were  covered  they 
were  hidden  entirely.  After  some  butting  and 
kicking  on  the  part  of  the  calf,  Casper  succeeded 
[124] 


BUFFALOES 

in  blowing  his  breath  into  her  nostrils  when  she 
seemed  to  lose  all  her  wildness  and  fear  and 
followed  close  on  the  heels  of  our  ponies  to  the 
barnyard.  She  became  the  companion  of  the 
first  calf  who  was  now  the  monarch  of  the  yard. 
The  calves  were  known  as  "Governor"  and 
"  Princess."  In  the  fall  they  changed  their  baby 
coats  of  sandy  red  for  dark  brown  ones.  When 
Governor  was  three  years  old  he  was  a  beautiful 
animal  nearly  eight  feet  long,  with  a  large,  noble 
head,  a  long  beard  beneath  his  chin,  short, 
rounded  horns  and  big,  gentle,  brown  eyes  that 
were  almost  hidden  by  the  long,  dark  hair  on 
his  head,  as  were  his  ears  and  the  base  of  his 
horns.  His  body  was  covered  with  short,  dark- 
brown,  woolly  fur  with  a  shaggy  mane  over  his 
high  shoulders  down  to  his  knees.  His  hind 
quarters  were  much  lower  and  comparatively 
weaker.  His  tail  was  smooth,  with  a  large  tuft 
on  the  end.  I  shall  never  forget  the  fine  pic- 
ture he  made  as  he  stood  pawing  the  ground  on 
the  hill  near  the  Gap  at  sunrise  with  the  red- 
purple  tints  of  the  sky  for  a  background  and 
greeting  me  with  his  friendly  roaring  and  bellow- 
ing. Then  as  I  stood  and  waved  to  him  he 

C"s] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

would  put  his  head  down  and  gallop  towards 
me  in  most  threatening  attitude  only  to  stop 
within  a  few  feet  of  me  as  gentle  as  could  be. 

Princess  had  also  grown  to  be  a  fine  and 
gentle  animal  though  not  nearly  so  large  as 
Governor  and  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a 
little  half-breed  calf.  Often  I  rode  about  the 
yard  upon  her  back  with  Casper  near  by,  while 
Governor  sullenly  walked  behind  or  by  her 
side.  One  afternoon  as  I  climbed  upon  her 
back  for  a  ride  she  seemed  to  take  fright  at  the 
flapping  of  the  skirt  of  my  new,  bright  calico 
dress  against  her  sides.  With  a  snort  she  lowered 
her  head  and  started  on  a  wild  gallop  toward 
the  canon.  Casper  mounted  a  bronco  that 
stood  in  the  yard  and  rode  in  hot  pursuit.  I 
clung  on  to  Princess's  short,  woolly  fur  the  best 
I  could  and  called  to  her  between  jolts  to  stop! 
She  was  too  frightened  to  heed  me  and  only 
seemed  to  run  faster  as  she  plunged  forward  in 
frenzied  flight.  Casper  followed  close  behind 
and  shouted  to  me  to  hold  on  for  my  life. 
When  Princess  reached  the  canon  with  one 
plunge  she  leaped  down  its  vertical  side  some 
fifteen  feet  below,  then  climbed  up  the  opposite 
[126] 


BUFFALOES 

bank  and  stood  stupidly  gazing  at  vacancy.  As 
she  plunged  I  lost  my  hold  and  was  thrown  into 
a  soft  pile  of  loose  clay  and  gravel.  Over  and 
over  I  rolled  with  the  loose  soil  and  stones 
down  the  side  of  the  canon.  I  was  not  seriously 
hurt,  only  badly  frightened,  bruised  and  dirty. 
When  Casper  had  carried  me  up  the  canon  side 
and  placed  me  on  the  front  of  his  saddle,  I 
noticed  my  beloved  Princess  grazing  quietly  as 
she  walked  slowly  homeward.  It  was  the  last 
time  I  ever  rode  Princess,  and  I  took  good  care 
that  she  never  again  saw  my  bright  calico  dress. 
Governor  did  good  service  as  a  beast  of  bur- 
den upon  the  farm  in  company  with  a  domestic 
steer.  One  cold  day  in  the  following  winter 
there  was  a  light  snowstorm  and  when  the  storm 
ceased  the  weather  moderated.  During  the  day 
the  top  of  the  snow  melted  before  the  wind  arose 
to  blow  it  into  drifts  as  it  commonly  did  upon 
the  treeless  plains.  Toward  night  it  grew  colder 
and  the  soft  snow  became  a  hard  and  smooth 
crust.  This  gave  an  opportunity  for  a  sleigh  ride 
which  was  almost  an  unknown  pleasure  for  the 
frontiersman.  A  set  of  rough  runners  were 
made  and  a  hay  rack  placed  upon  them  in  which 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

a  generous  supply  of  hay,  buffalo  robes  and 
blankets  were  piled.  On  this  rode  the  young 
people  from  the  trading-post  who  had  assembled 
for  the  much  discussed  sleigh  ride.  They  were 
then  comfortably  tucked  in  this  luxurious  if  not 
ornamental  conveyance  with  Governor  and  the 
steer  hooked  on  to  carry  them  over  the  white- 
robed  prairie.  The  moon  and  stars  were  shin- 
ing brightly  from  an  azure  sky.  At  last  the 
jolly  party  laughing  and  shouting  amid  the  tink- 
ling of  two  cowbells  about  the  necks  of  Governor 
and  the  steer,  started  upon  that  memorable  moon- 
light ride.  For  some  time  the  animals  moved 
along  in  a  dog  trot  fashion  while  the  driver  plied 
his  whip  with  "haw"  or  "gee"  as  occasion  de- 
manded. No  matter  how  he  whipped  and  urged 
them  with  his  shouts ;  they  went  right  on  at  the 
same  pace  until  they  passed  a  neighbor's  dugout 
and  aroused  his  dogs.  These  animals  ran  after 
the  strange  looking  sled,  barking  and  growling 
at  Governor  and  the  steer  who  took  fright  and 
ran  away  at  full  speed.  They  soon  got  entirely 
out  of  the  control  of  the  driver.  On  and  on 
they  ran,  the  great  cowbells  ringing,  the  driver 
shouting  and  the  now  thoroughly  frightened 
[1*9] 


BUFFALOES 

pleasure  seekers  screaming  as  the  rickety  sleigh 
fairly  flew  over  the  ground,  first  on  one  pair  of 
runners  then  on  the  other  but  seldom  on  all 
four.  Amid  all  the  noise  and  confusion  were  to 
be  heard  the  dismal  howls  of  a  pack  of  hungry 
coyotes.  The  sleigh  was  now  being  pulled  over 
a  level  stretch  of  hay  land  and  its  occupants 
were  growing  more  confident  of  their  safety. 
Then  it  was  noticed  that  their  frightened  bovine 
steeds  were  making  for  a  long  haystack  partly 
hidden  in  the  recently  fallen  snow.  The  driver 
bootlessly  endeavored  to  turn  them  from  their 
headlong  course.  The  frenzied  animals  seemed 
to  run  the  faster.  They  soon  reached  the 
dreaded  obstacle,  overturning  the  sleigh  as  the 
fore  runner  struck  the  stack,  throwing  all  of  the 
occupants  into  the  snowdrift.  The  animals  sped 
on  and  soon  they  seemed  to  be  but  a  speck  in  the 
distance.  The  tinkling  of  the  rapidly  disappear- 
ing bells  came  back  as  a  defiance  on  the  frosty 
air.  Then  followed  the  long,  weary  tramp 
through  the  snow  on  the  homeward  journey 
with  the  added  burden  of  a  stray  robe  or  blanket 
that  had  been  picked  up  on  the  way.  When 
our  home  was  reached  there  stood  the  jaded 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

animals  munching  hay  but  still  hooked  to  what 
was  left  of  the  sleigh.  When  Governor  saw 
the  driver  he  turned  showing  only  the  whites  of 
his  eyes  as  he  shook  his  head  and  bellowed. 
His  bellow  seemed  to  say  "  On  another  straw- 
ride  select  a  proper  steed ! " 

During  the  three  years  that  passed  since  the 
buffalo  calves  came  to  live  as  our  pets  the  little 
herd  on  the  prairie  had  not  fared  so  well.  They 
nearly  all  had  been  killed  by  stray  Indians  or 
strange  robe-hunters.  The  only  one  left  was 
an  old  bull  who  could  be  seen  any  warm  day 
during  the  summer  making  his  way  to  the  buffalo 
wallow  at  the  head  of  "Devil's  Gap."  It  was 
pitiful  to  see  him,  lame,  his  head  lowered,  and 
stumbling  along  in  defenceless  solitude.  Once 
one  of  the  proud  protectors  of  a  large  noble  herd 
he  had  lived  to  see  them  all  perish,  even  his  last 
little  band  that  he  had  so  often  led  to  the  wallow 
that  he  had  made  for  his  and  their  comfort.  Now, 
shorn  of  all  his  glory,  he  was  left  as  the  only 
monument  in  that  region  of  one  of  the  grandest 
sights  of  the  plains  and  one  never  to  be  for- 
gotten, a  great  herd  of  noble  buffaloes.  When 
winter  approached  and  food  became  scarce  the 
[130] 


BUFFALOES 

poor,  lone  beast  grew  more  and  more  feeble. 
He  was  followed  and  worried  by  hungry,  prowl- 
ing coyotes  that  tore  at  his  legs  and  face  in  an 
effort  to  pull  him  down  and  devour  him.  The 
noble  animal  fought  bravely  and  succeeded  in 
warding  off  his  enemies  for  several  days.  One 
cold  moonlight  night  as  he  lay  down  to  rest  and 
chew  his  cud  on  the  side  of  the  hill  near  the  old 
wallow  he  was  aroused  by  the  howling  of  an 
approaching  pack  of  coyotes.  With  painful 
effort  he  arose  on  his  weak,  trembling  legs  to 
face  his  foes  and  ward  them  off.  They  sprang 
at  him  from  all  sides  tearing  his  flanks,  his  face, 
his  eyes. 

Crazed  with  pain  he  broke  loose  from  the  fero- 
cious coyotes  and  stumbled  forward  toward  the 
wallow  and  the  great  Gap,  the  wolves  in  close 
pursuit  and  rapidly  gaining  upon  him.  As  he 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  deep  Gap  with  his  head 
lowered  in  his  last  " stand"  for  life,  the  wolves 
snapping  and  growling  around  him,  my  father 
and  I  approached  on  horseback  on  our  way 
home  from  a  children's  neighborhood  party. 
We  tried  to  frighten  the  wolves  away  but  were 
too  late.  The  poor  hounded  brute  ended  his 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

own  life  as  he  stepped  backward  and  plunged 
down  the  canon's  side  into  "Devil's  Gap"! 

We  drove  the  howling,  snarling  coyotes  off, 
then  rode  to  the  edge  of  the  Gap  for  a  last  look 
at  the  lifeless  form  of  the  old  bull  lying  seventy 
feet  below.  Often  he  had  been  chased  and 
shot  at  by  his  bitterest  enemies  —  the  white  man 
and  the  Indian.  Often  he  had  nobly  fought 
to  protect  the  calves  and  weaker  animals  of  his 
flock  from  their  natural  enemies  only  to  sur- 
vive them  all  and  die  alone,  maimed,  starving 
and  weak.  Pursued  to  the  last,  he  was  saved 
by  the  friendly  Gap  from  being  literally  torn  to 
pieces  and  devoured  by  his  life-long  murderous 
pursuers.  The  buffalo  wallow  at  the  head  of 
"  Devil's  Gap  "  was  never  used  after  the  death 
of  the  grand  old  bull  who  made  it.  The  mud 
that  had  dropped  in  balls  from  the  buffalo's  tail 
as  he  rolled  in  the  wallow  grew  hard  and  dry  in 
the  sun  as  did  also  the  smooth  depression.  It 
was  known  as  the  "  Devil's  Pool-Table,"  and 
the  hard  balls  of  mud,  composed  of  clay  and 
gravel  that  were  often  rolled  about  by  the  wind 
on  a  stormy  night,  were  known  as  the  "  Devil's 
Pool-Balls."  Often  as  the  wind  roared  in  the 


'As  he  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  deep  Gap  with 
his  head  lowered  in  his  last c stand*  for  life" 


BUFFALOES 

Gap  and  the  rock-like  balls  rolled  against  one 
another  in  the  old  wallow,  I  always  imagined  I 
could  again  hear  the  roaring  of  the  old  bull  as 
he  pawed  the  ground  and  threw  the  loose 
stones  about  with  his  horns.  Then  I  would  walk 
to  the  edge  of  the  Gap  and  look  down  on  the 
bleached  white  bones  that  were  rapidly  being 
covered  by  the  falling  soil  and  with  a  sad  heart 
drop  a  tear  to  the  memory  of  the  old  monarch 
of  the  plains. 

Sitting  one  day  on  the  edge  of  the  Gap,  look- 
ing at  the  old  wallow  and  the  rock-like  balls 
rolling  about,  something  was  thrown  over  my 
head  and  I  was  roughly  rolled  in  the  covering. 
The  voices  and  grunts  of  Indians  were  heard 
with  each  shake  I  received.  I  screamed  with 
fear  and  made  every  effort  to  release  myself. 
Though  the  Indians  from  the  Reservation 
which  was  near  by  had  always  been  on  friendly 
terms  with  us,  I  remembered  with  horror  how 
only  a  few  weeks  before  a  man  living  but  six 
miles  from  our  place  had  been  scalped  by  some 
passing  Indians  and  left  lying  dead  in  the  newly 
ploughed  furrow  while  the  oxen  patiently  stood 
hitched  to  the  plough.  After  some  effort, 
['35] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

trembling  and  crying,  I  crawled  out  from  a 
buffalo  robe  that  had  been  thrown  over  me  by 
the  friendly  hands  of  the  great  Sioux  Indian 
warrior  —  Sitting  Bull  —  to  whom  I  had  often 
given  slices  of  home-made  bread  spread  with 
sorghum,  of  which  he  seemed  very  fond.  There 
he  stood  with  one  of  his  squaws,  who  had  car- 
ried the  robe,  beside  him.  They  grunted  and 
jumped  about  me  as  I  was  told  the  robe  was  to 
be  mine.  There  were  many  characters  and 
figures  stained  on  the  inside  of  the  robe.  These 
Sitting  Bull  explained  represented  a  war  be- 
tween his  people  and  another  tribe  of  Indians. 
He  looked  at  the  old  buffalo  wallow,  then  at 
the  bones  of  the  old  bull  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Gap.  Then  he  stood  up  and  looked  off  across 
the  prairie.  With  a  firm,  set  face  he  pulled  his 
blanket  tightly  around  him  as  he  said  "  No 
more  buffalo  for  my  people,  no  lands ;  white 
man  take  all."  Then  he  stalked  down  the  hill 
to  our  house  followed  by  the  squaw  and  seemed 
much  amused  as  he  watched  a  half-breed  boy 
who  with  myself  was  stumbling  along  under  the 
weight  of  the  large  buffalo  robe  in  an  effort  to 
carry  it  home. 

C'36] 


BUFFALOES 

For  many  years  after,  even  when  I  was  a 
grown  woman,  the  robe  answered  for  a  warm 
covering  for  my  bed  on  a  cold  night  or  to  shield 
me  from  the  piercing  wind  on  many  a  long 
journey  over  the  prairie.  It  was  unfortunately 
stolen  from  my  cart  while  attending  a  religious 
meeting  !  I  lost  one  of  my  warmest  friends. 


t'37] 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND   ITS  HOME 
AS  JOE  AND  I  KNEW  THEM 

JOE  was  an  honest,  good-natured,  half-breed 
Indian.  He  was  six  years  my  senior,  tall 
and  ungainly,  with  broad,  square  shoulders, 
straight,  black  hair,  sharp  eyes  and  high  cheek- 
bones. He  came  to  live  with  us  on  my  eighth 
birthday,  in  consequence  of  which  1  always 
called  him  my  birthday  gift.  He  was  my  con- 
stant companion  and  playmate  for  several  years. 

During  the  time  Joe  was  a  member  of  our 
family  we  lived  on  a  "  preemption  "  and  timber 
claim.  A  clear  stream  of  water  with  low  banks 
ran  along  its  eastern  boundary ;  a  branch  of 
the  stream  extended  into  a  broad  slough  filled 
with  long,  sharp-edged  slough-grass,  cat-tail 
rushes  and  spatterdock  with  their  broad  leather- 
like  leaves. 

Along  the  edge  of  the  slough  grew  patches 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

of  tall  sunflowers  which  raised  their  bright  yel- 
low and  brown  heads  to  greet  the  first  rays  of 
the  morning  sun.  They  turned  slowly  during 
the  day  and  reverently  bowed  a  farewell  to  him 
when  he  disappeared  at  evening. 

Late  one  afternoon  in  July,  as  Joe  and  I  were 
rowing  down  the  stream  in  his  rude  canoe,  we  no- 
ticed two  dark  objects  in  the  water.  Soon  they 
were  joined  by  another.  All  we  could  see  was 
the  tops  of  their  heads  and  the  tips  of  their 
tails.  The  heads  were  about  the  size  of  those 
of  our  common  house-cats.  Joe  said  they  were 
muskrats,  or  "  musquash,"  as  the  Indians  called 
them.  He  quietly  pushed  the  canoe  alongside 
of  the  bank  under  the  shadow  of  a  large  cotton- 
wood  tree  which  bent  its  branches  over  the 
stream.  From  this  sheltered  point  we  watched 
the  muskrats  aimlessly  floating  about  about  on 
the  water.  Presently  they  swam  down  stream, 
the  old  one  taking  the  lead  with  the  young  rats 
about  a  foot  behind.  They  swam  with  a  strong 
muscular  stroke,  using  their  long*  toes  which 
have  stiff  hairs  between  them  that  interlace  to 
form  a  web  and  act  like  the  oars  of  a  boat, 
as  they  push  their  legs  out  against  the  water, 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

but  which  hang  loosely,  permitting  the  water 
to  pass  through  them  when  they  pull  their  legs 
back  again.  The  young  rat  on  the  right  was 
almost  abreast  of  the  old  one ;  another  stroke 
and  their  noses  were  even  ;  meanwhile  the  poor 
little  fellow  on  the  left  was  all  alone  in  the  rear  ! 

On  and  on  they  swam.  Ah  !  the  young  rat 
has  lost  ground,  the  old  one  is  head  and  shoulders 
in  the  lead.  Now  they  dive  and  are  lost  to 
view.  The  young  one  has  gained  on  the  old 
one  while  under  water  and  they  are  again  even 
in  the  race.  They  swim  until  they  reach  a  bend 
in  the  stream  where  the  race  ends  with  the 
young  rat  a  half  head  in  the  lead.  They  have 
turned  and  are  slowly  paddling  up  stream.  The 
little  one  in  the  rear  has  taken  advantage  of  his 
position  and  turning  when  the  old  one  did,  leads 
out,  swimming  hard  against  the  current.  Now 
he  turns,  floats  back  to  his  companions  and 
with  the  old  one  in  the  middle  the  three  swim 
up  stream  abreast. 

As  they  *  cut  through  the  water  with  their 
chins  resting  on  its  surface  the  little  v-shaped 
ripples  caused  by  their  bodies  widened  into 
larger  ones  until  the  miniature  waves  reached 

[HO] 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

from  shore  to  shore.  As  the  sun's  last  rays 
spread  across  their  surface  they  burst  into  won- 
derful splendor  showing  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  The  rats  were  seemingly  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  beauty  that  surrounded  them  and 
reaching  their  starting  place  again  aimlessly  float; 
or  tumbling  over  and  over  in  the  water  they 
chase  one  another  about  as  though  playing  a 
game  of  tag.  Again  they  are  off  for  another  race. 
On-their  return  the  two  young  rats  crawled  upon 
a  water-soaked  log  that  lay  near  the  bank  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  stream,  while  the  big  one 
scampered  up  the  side  of  the  bank  and  disap- 
peared. The  muskrats  on  the  log  shook  their 
fur,  which  was  as  dry  as  though  they  had  never 
touched  the  water,  and  combed  the  hair  about 
their  heads  and  necks  with  their  paws.  Presently 
one  of  them  dived  from  the  log  into  the  water ; 
soon  he  emerged  with  a  fresh-water  clam  between 
his  paws,  pulled  himself  upon  the  log  and  sat 
down.  As  soon  as  his  companion  saw  the  much 
coveted  morsel  he  tried  to  take  it,  but  did  not 
succeed ;  he  received  for  his  selfishness  instead 
an  angry  bite  on  his  shoulder  from  the  long, 
sharp  front  teeth  of  the  other  rat  and  two  cuts 

[HI] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

on  his  naked  tail.  After  squeaking  three  times 
he  ran  to  the  other  end  of  the  log,  plunged  into 
the  water  and  secured  a  clam  for  himself.  The 
first  muskrat  gnawed  at  the  clam-shell  for  some 
time  when  it  seemed  to  open ;  then  he  pulled 
the  animal  out  with  his  paw  and  ate  it. 

The  rats  seemed  to  forget  the  struggle  of  but 
a  moment  before  as  each  dived,  secured  and  ate 
his  clams.  While  they  were  thus  busily  engaged 
our  attention  was  attracted  by  the  excited  calls 
of  a  blue-jay.  Looking  up  we  saw  a  large 
marsh-hawk  sailing  slowly  and  smoothly  on 
noiseless  wings  with  its  owl-like  face  and  big 
yellow  eyes  peering  downward  over  the  all  un- 
conscious muskrats.  With  one  quick  dive  the 
hawk  swooped  upon  the  smallest  rat.  With  his 
sharp  talons  he  bore  the  luckless  animal  away 
to  his  home  among  the  bunches  of  slough-grass 
and  sunflowers.  The  other  rat  dived  into  the 
water  and  swam  for  some  distance  before  he 
ventured  to  come  to  the  surface  for  a  breath  of 
air  and  to  see  if  he  was  out  of  harm's  way.  He 
floated  for  a  few  minutes,  looked  all  around  him 
and  then  swam  up  stream.  As  he  passed  us  I 
spoke.  Instantly  he  dived  into  the  water  and 
[«**-•] 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

when  he  came  up  he  was  some  thirty  feet  away. 
After  swimming  for  a  long  distance  he  headed 
for  the  bank  and  when  within  a  few  feet  of  it  he 
dived  again  and  was  lost  to  sight.  He  had 
entered  his  burrow  or  summer  home  at  this 
point  by  an  entrance  under  the  water.  Joe 
rowed  me  across  the  stream  to  the  log  upon 
which  the  muskrats  had  feasted  so  contentedly. 
We  found  several  empty  clam-shells  ;  a  part  of 
the  clams  had  been  taken  and  eaten  by  the  poor 
little  fellow  who  in  turn  was  forced  to  give  up 
his  life  to  the  big  marsh-hawk  for  her  family 
supper.  Such  is  Nature's  law  of  compensation ! 
Joe  and  I  knew  the  marsh-hawk's  nest  was 
down  by  the  swamp  in  a  little  patch  of  sun- 
flowers. It  was  made  of  grass,  lined  sparingly 
with  feathers  and  occupied  by  four  young  hawks. 
As  we  rowed  home  in  the  moonlight,  without  a 
sound  but  the  splashing  of  the  oars,  I  thought 
of  the  marsh-hawks.  The  beautiful  male,  his 
more  quietly  dressed  mate  and  their  little  ones 
with  feathers  the  color  of  their  mother's,  flitted 
across  my  mind.  How  they  would  enjoy  their 
supper  as  they  held  the  body  of  the  unfortunate 
little  muskrat  under  their  claws  and  tore  oflT  the 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

tender  morsels  of  its  red  flesh  with  their  strong, 
hooked  bills. 

The  poor  muskrat  would  never  know  the 
joys  of  a  western  winter.  It  seemed  a  pity  that 
he  must  die  the  first  summer  of  his  life.  Joe 
said  that  each  wild  animal  was  obliged  to  live 
at  the  expense  of  some  other.  It  was  his  way 
of  saying  that  the  "  survival  of  the  fittest "  was 
one  of  the  great  laws  of  nature. 

The  next  morning  Joe  and  I  returned  on 
horseback  to  the  point  on  the  bank  of  the  stream 
where  the  surviving  young  rat  had  entered  his 
burrow  the  previous  night.  As  we  rode  along 
a  short  distance  back  from  the  bank  the  turf 
gave  away  under  one  of  the  front  feet  of  my 
pony.  Joe  said  that  must  be  near  the  end  of 
the  burrow  because  it  was  so  near  the  surface. 
He  opened  the  burrow  for  several  feet  when  we 
came  to  a  larger  cavity  lined  with  some  dry  grass 
upon  which  lay  seven  hairless  little  muskrats 
with  their  eyes  closed.  There  were  two  other 
avenues  like  this  branching  off  from  the  first  one 
we  found  and  as  we  neared  the  bank  the  bur- 
row ran  down  to  a  depth  of  four  feet,  with  three 
entrances,  all  under  water.  Muskrats  may  do 
[144] 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

much  damage  to  pasture-land  and  dams  by  under- 
mining them  in  this  way.  On  our  way  home 
we  noticed  a  large  muskrat  swimming  toward 
the  opposite  shore  with  some  long,  greenish- 
white  roots  in  his  mouth.  Presently  he  reached 
an  old  stump  that  stood  nearly  a  foot  above  the 
water.  He  climbed  upon  it  and  began  washing 
the  roots.  When  they  were  thoroughly  cleaned 
he  ate  them  in  a  most  greedy  manner  until  the 
last  root  was  devoured.  He  then  sat  so  perfectly 
still  that  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  him 
from  a  part  of  the  stump. 

One  afternoon  in  late  September  Joe  and  I 
were  picking  wild  grapes.  We  were  anxious  to 
fill  our  baskets  and  so  had  remained  at  our  task 
until  after  sundown.  Joe  carried  his  own  home- 
made willow  basket  and  we  both  carried  mine 
between  us.  As  we  tramped  along  in  the  dusk 
of  the  early  evening,  catching  our  feet  now  and 
then  in  wild  cucumber  vines,  running  into  a 
clump  of  cockle  burs,  or  treading  on  a  bunch 
of  sand  burs,  we  rounded  the  bend  of  the  stream 
near  a  sandbar  where  the  channel  was  narrow 
and  shallow  enough  to  wade  across.  Splash ! 
splash !  splash !  was  the  only  sound  that  greeted 
C'45] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

our  ears  from  down  the  stream.  We  knew  the 
muskrats  had  been  disturbed  and  were  sounding 
the  alarm  along  the  river.  As  they  plunged 
into  the  water  Joe  said  if  I  would  watch  the 
baskets  he  would  try  and  catch  one  in  the  way 
he  had  been  taught  by  an  old  Indian. 

Selecting  a  heavy  stick  six  feet  long  he  lay 
flat  on  the  ground  face  downward  and  began  to 
make  a  curious,  squeaking  sound  with  his  lips. 
Keeping  this  up  for  some  time,  a  large  muskrat 
with  heavy  dark-brown  fur,  with  a  mixture  of 
longer  stiff  glossy  hairs  of  a  darker  color,  tiny 
ears  and  little,  black  bead-like  eyes  set  back  on 
the  sides  of  a  broad,  flat  head,  finally  answered 
the  half-breed's  call.  As  the  muskrat  crawled 
up  the  side  of  the  bank,  Joe  struck  it  across  the 
back  of  its  neck  with  the  stick  he  held  in  wait- 
ing. Thus  all  unconsciously  it  was  lured  to 
death.  The  Indians  were  very  fond  of  the  flesh 
of  the  muskrat  and  formerly  killed  many  of 
them  for  food  as  Joe  did  this  one. 

Joe  skinned  the  muskrat  and  from  the  fur  a 

cap  was  made.     He  also  took  the  secretion  with 

its  peculiar  musk-odor  from  the  glands  in  which 

it  is  found.     This  secretion  is  used  for  scenting 

[146] 


As  soon  as  it  would  hold  the  weight  of 
a  muskrat^  one  mounted  the  platform  " 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

the  bait  which  he  placed  on  the  traps  he  had  set 
for  mink. 

One  day  near  the  middle  of  October,  Joe  and 
I  noticed  two  large  muskrats  with  long  rushes 
in  their  mouths  swimming  toward  a  spot  in  the 
slough  where  the  water  was  five  or  six  feet  deep 
after  the  heavy  fall  rains.  One  animal  placed 
the  rushes  side  by  side  while  the  other  dived 
and  brought  up  more  ;  these  were  placed  cross- 
wise upon  the  first  layer ;  the  next  layer  was 
placed  from  one  corner  to  the  other ;  thus  layer 
after  layer  was  added  so  as  to  form  a  circular 
raft.  As  soon  as  it  would  hold  the  weight  of  a 
muskrat,  one  mounted  the  platform  and  seemed 
to  be  cutting  rushes  and  roots  into  small  pieces 
to  fill  in  the  open  spaces  between  the  long 
rushes  and  thus  make  the  mass  solid.  As  more 
material  was  added  its  weight  caused  the  raft  to 
sink.  Then  the  muskrats  would  begin  all  over, 
only  to  have  it  sink  again ;  thus  they  worked 
day  after  day  seeming  never  to  tire. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  week  the  platform 

remained  on  the  surface  of  the  water  for  several 

days ;    we   then  knew  they  had  succeeded  in 

building  the  under  stories  of  their  winter  home. 

['49] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

Dry  slough-grass  was  now  placed  on  the  plat- 
form, then  the  animals  dived  and  pulled  up  the 
rushes  and  lilies  by  the  roots  with  large  masses 
of  the  earth  adhering  and  built  them  into  the 
house,  plastering  the  hut  on  the  outside  in  a 
crude  way  with  the  mud  from  the  roots.  They 
now  burrowed  into  their  newly  made  hut  near 
the  bottom,  digging  upwards  to  above  the  water 
level ;  here  they  dug  a  small  chamber  a  foot 
across,  over  the  spot  where  they  had  placed  the 
dry  slough-grass.  A  similar  passage  was  dug 
down  the  opposite  side,  making  an  avenue  some- 
what the  shape  of  the  letter  U  turned  upside 
down.  The  southeast  side  was  dug  much  nearer 
the  surface  than  the  others  to  admit  air.  A 
number  of  other  entrances  were  made  under  the 
water  by  which  to  escape  in  time  of  danger. 
Many  of  these  homes  were  built  over  the  slough. 
In  the  bend  of  the  river  two  of  the  muskrats 
built  their  home  between  two  crooked  forks  of 
a  willow  tree  that  had  been  submerged  by  the 
water,  cutting  a  new  channel  and  causing  it  to 
flow  around  a  bend  where  the  loose  soil  and 
sand  had  been  washed  away  by  previous  spring 
freshets. 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

They  carried  slough-grass,  spatterdock  and 
cat-tail  rushes,  winding  them  in  the  flexible, 
short  limbs  of  the  tree,  which  helped  to  hold 
more  securely  the  gathered  material.  When 
they  had  built  a  mound  three  or  more  feet  above 
the  water  and  nearly  four  feet  across,  they  fin- 
ished the  outside  with  large  spatterdock  leaves 
and  long  blades  of  grass  mixed  with  mud,  giv- 
ing it  the  appearance  of  a  thatched  roof.  All 
muskrat  huts  are  not  built  like  those  which  Joe 
and  I  knew.  They  build  according  to  the  place, 
material  and  climate  in  which  they  live  ;  but  all 
muskrat  homes  are  made  on  the  same  general 
plan,  if  not  as  perfect  in  architecture  as  the  two 
above  described,  watching  which  Joe  and  I  spent 
part  of  each  day  for  over  a  month,  meanwhile 
learning  to  love  the  little  furry  builders. 

Back  of  our  house  were  pits  of  potatoes,  car- 
rots and  parsnips  covered  with  straw  and  earth, 
stored  thus  for  safe  keeping  for  the  early  spring 
market.  On  the  afternoon  of  a  late  November 
day  Joe  and  I  noticed  the  tops  of  carrots  and 
turnips,  with  now  and  then  a  part  of  a  root, 
scattered  around  the  pits  and  along  little  paths 
that  led  from  the  pits  down  the  hill  to  the  slough. 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

Joe  said  the  paths  were  muskrat  runways  and 
the  little  duck-like  tracks  were  those  of  the  musk- 
rat.  On  closer  examination  he  found  they  had 
dug  in  under  the  pits  and  carried  away  several 
bushels  of  our  vegetables.  Traps  were  set  along 
the  runways  near  the  vegetable  pits  that  night, 
and  in  the  morning  Joe  had  three  good-sized 
muskrats.  The  weather  had  been  growing  grad- 
ually colder  and  colder  until  parts  of  the  stream 
and  slough  where  the  water  was  shallow  were 
frozen  solid,  while  in  deep  water  there  were  from 
two  to  three  feet  of  ice.  There  was  a  clear  sweep 
for  the  wind  down  the  west  side  of  the  slough 
from  the  river,  so  that  the  snow  was  swept  away 
nearly  as  fast  as  it  fell,  leaving  a  clear  view  of 
the  little  brown  huts  of  the  muskrats  which 
stood  from  a  foot  to  three  feet  above  the  icy 
bottom. 

Joe  said  if  I  would  help  him  sp.ear  and  trap 
the  muskrats  he  would  give  me  the  money  he 
procured  for  the  skins.  On  an  early  December 
morning,  as  Joe  and  I  started  for  the  slough,  he 
carried  a  two-pronged  pitchfork  for  a  spear  and 
a  hatchet.  I  wore  my  fur  cap,  that  mother  and 
Joe  made  for  me  from  the  rat  he  had  killed  in 
[15*] 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

the  summer  pulled  well  down  over  my  ears 
and  had  a  string  of  steel  traps  over  my  shoulder. 
It  was  with  much  suppressed  excitement  that 
we  walked  noiselessly  on  tip-toe  to  a  large  hut, 
Joe  whispering  to  me  under  his  breath  that  he 
was  looking  for  the  frost-patch  generally  found 
on  the  outside  of  the  hut  caused  by  the  animals' 
breathing.  Ah !  there  it  was  and  he  crept 
closer  with  the  handle  of  his  spear  held  high 
above  his  head.  Crash  went  the  fork  into  the 
earth.  And  immediately  after  there  was  a 
muffled  splash!  splash!  splash!  as  three  musk- 
rats  scampered  into  the  water!  I  crept  up  to 
Joe  and  whispered  "didn't  you  catch  him?" 
Just  then  I  noticed  that  he  was  pushing  down  on 
the  fork  and  as  the  handle  swayed  back  and 
forth  I  used  the  hatchet  to  chop  away  the  top 
of  the  hut  and  throw  aside  the  earth.  My  eyes 
met  the  gaze  of  a  large  muskrat  with  two  very 
small,  wild  eyes  and  his  open  mouth  showing 
four  long  protruding  teeth  and  with  excitement 
and  joy  I  fairly  screamed,  "Joe,  Joe  youVe 
caught  a  rat."  Then  with  one  more  chop  the 
back  of  a  second  one  loomed  up.  I  threw 
down  my  hatchet  saying  "  There  are  two,  two 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

Joe!"  I  held  the  fork  while  Joe  killed  the 
muskrats  and  set  a  trap  in  the  hole  we  had 
made,  for  he  knew  the  other  rats  would  return 
in  a  short  time  and  at  once  begin  to  repair  their 
damaged  home  and  that  we  were  quite  sure  of 
getting  another.  I  had  felt  the  first  thrilling 
excitement  of  capturing  a  wild  animal.  Not 
waiting  for  Joe,  I  ran  to  the  next  hut  and  thrust 
the  fork  into  the  mound.  Soon  I  heard  the 
animals  scamper  into  the  water.  I  had  been 
too  eager  and  noisy  and  they  all  escaped.  This 
calmed  me  and  I  walked  meekly  by  Joe's  side, 
with  the  remaining  traps  over  my  shoulder  and 
carrying  the  hatchet,  without  saying  a  word. 

In  nearly  every  hut  we  caught  one  or  two 
muskrats.  Once  Joe  pinned  three.  By  noon 
we  had  speared  eighteen.  Joe  said  we  would 
go  back  and  examine  the  traps  and  we  found 
ten  more,  in  this  way  making  twenty-eight  in 
all.  It  was  half  past  three  when  we  sat  down 
on  an  old  cock  of  dry  hay  with  the  pile  of 
muskrats  in  front  of  us.  Joe  took  some  sand- 
wiches of  rye  bread  and  fried  bacon  out  of  his 
pocket  for  our  lunch.  I  was  tired  and  very 
hungry.  How  good  the  bread  and  meat  tasted! 
[154] 


THE  MUSKRAT  AND  ITS  HOME 

I  can  remember  eating  nothing  I  enjoyed 
more.  Now  that  the  excitement  had  worn  off 
I  grew  very  unhappy  when  I  thought  I  had 
aided  in  taking  the  lives  of  so  many  animals. 
Had  they  not  as  much  right  to  enjoy  their  lives 
in  their  way  as  I  had  to  enjoy  mine?  I  would 
have  given  all  I  ever  hoped  to  possess — even  my 
dear  pony  and  dog  —  could  I  have  given  back 
the  luckless  muskrats  their  lives  and  have  seen 
them  run  here  and  there,  down  their  many  run- 
ways, tumbling  over  one  another  in  their  mad 
haste  to  reach  their  homes.  Joe  said  I  must 
not  feel  so  about  the  rats,  as  he  wiped  the  tears 
from  my  cheek  with  his  red  handkerchief.  He 
said  if  they  were  not  killed  during  the  winter 
the  muskrats  would  multiply  very  rapidly,  hav- 
ing three  litters  and  from  five  to  nine  young 
ones  at  a  birth  during  a  summer.  In  great 
numbers  they  are  capable  of  doing  much  dam- 
age and  he  thought  their  fur  was  intended  for 
our  use,  for  were  not  his  mittens  and  my  cap 
of  comfort  and  service  to  us  ?  With  this  com- 
forting argument  Joe  bagged  the  game  and  placed 
it  on  the  hand-sled  on  which  he  had  pulled  me 
partly  down  to  the  slough.  As  we  trudged 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

up  the  hill  to  the  house  Joe  promised  me  he 
would  not  molest  the  muskrats  in  the  homes 
we  had  watched  with  so  much  pleasure  during 
their  progress  of  construction.  In  time  I  grew 
to  think  about  as  Joe  did  upon  the  subject,  but 
I  loved  the  wild  animals  too  well  to  ever  join 
in  capturing  them  again.  We  received  from 
fifteen  to  eighteen  cents  apiece  for  our  twenty- 
eight  skins  according  to  their  size  and  condition, 
making  four  dollars  and  sixty-five  cents  for  our 
day's  work. 

With  this  money  I  purchased,  with  my 
mother's  aid,  my  first  books.  During  the  re- 
mainder of  the  winter,  when  Joe  was  not  trap- 
ping muskrats  or  other  small  game,  we  spent 
the  time  sitting  on  a  bench  behind  the  stove 
reading  the  books  together. 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER 
CREEK 

JUST  below  the  foot-hills  of  the  "  Rockies" 
lived  a  plainsman  with  his  Indian  wife 
"  Bright-Eyes  "  and  their  children.  Near 
their  home  ran  a  stream  of  clear  water.  Along 
its  banks  grew  many  cottonwood  trees,  willows, 
alders  and  plum  bushes.  Around  the  trees 
gracefully  twined  wild  cucumber,  hop  and  grape 
vines  with  their  long  tendrils  reaching  from  the 
branches  of  one  tree  to  another,  forming  a  beau- 
tiful bower  among  which  both  birds  and  beasts 
of  the  plains  found  welcome  retreat.  The 
creek,  and  the  trees  surrounding  it,  were  the 
only  ones  to  be  seen  for  many  miles  on  the  un- 
dulating prairie,  broken  here  and  there  with  a 
deep  canon  and  its  banks,  during  the  summer 
months,  covered  with  beds  of  beautiful  wild 
roses. 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

"  Full  Moon "  was  the  eldest  son  of  the 
plainsman  and  his  wife  Bright-Eyes.  He  re- 
ceived his  name  from  the  fact  that  he  was  born 
on  the  first  night  in  a  full  moon  and  also  from 
his  habit  of  prowling  about,  at  night  generally 
when  it  was  clear  and  the  moon  was  bright. 
He  frequented  the  creek  and  its  wooded  banks 
and  the  prairie  to  learn  of  the  animals  that 
lived  there  and  to  study  their  ways.  It  is  the 
natural  life  of  every  Indian  boy  to  live  and  learn 
the  ways  of  nature's  children.  He  received 
crude  moral  lessons  through  legends  of  nature's 
gifts  which  had  been  handed  down  from  one 
generation  to  another. 

The  beavers  had  been  hunted  for  the  coats 
they  wore  by  the  fur-traders  and  Indians.  After 
repeatedly  having  their  homes  and  dams  along 
the  larger  streams  broken  into  and  many  of 
their  families  destroyed,  they  scattered  and 
sought  new  localities  along  rivers  and  creeks 
and  with  renewed  hopes  built  other  dams  and 
lodges.  But  they  were  followed  again  and 
again  with  the  same  disastrous  experience.  One 
brave  beaver  and  his  mate  fortunately  made 
good  their  escape  when  the  last  of  their  colony 
[158] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

were  entirely  wiped  out  and  their  dam  and 
lodge  destroyed  by  a  party  of  fur-hunters. 
They  had  lain  concealed  in  an  old,  deserted, 
•badger  den  until  their  ruthless  enemies  disap- 
peared with  their  plunder.  Then  under  the 
cover  of  a  dark,  rainy  night  they  cautiously 
came  forth  and  noiselessly  glided  down  the 
stream  and  out  into  a  strange  world  in  search 
of  a  new  home.  After  traveling  a  long  distance 
they  entered  a  broad,  shallow  creek  that  ran  by 
Full  Moon's  home  and  that  was  ever  after  des- 
tined to  bear  their  name.  They  traveled  all 
the  way  by  night  examining  first  one  stream 
and  then  another  and  rested  during  the  day 
under  friendly  banks  or  in  some  deserted  bur- 
row which  they  chanced  to  find  by  the  way. 
The  weary  animals  swam  for  some  distance 
along  the  creek  and  after  carefully  studying  all 
the  surroundings  with  due  consideration  they 
selected  the  portion  of  the  stream  near  Full 
Moon's  home  for  their  future  abode.  During 
the  first  day  they  lay  concealed  under  the  bank 
and  rested  contentedly.  When  the  moon  was 
well  up  and  all  was  quiet  they  came  out  and 
swam  about  the  stream,  then  crawled  up  the 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

bank  and  awkwardly  made  their  way  to  a  juicy 
cottonwood  tree.  They  sat  upon  their  hind  feet 
before  the  chosen  tree,  with  their  hands  clasped 
about  the  trunk  and  their  broad  tails  extended 
behind  as  a  prop.  Then  with  their  chisel-like 
teeth  they  began  rapidly  cutting  a  groove  com- 
pletely around  the  trunk.  As  the  animals  bit 
into  the  tree  the  groove  was  made  proportion- 
ately wider  so  that  when  the  timber  was  entirely 
severed  the  end  was  less  rounded  than  rather 
pointed.  The  clean-cut  chips  fell  thick  and 
fast  about  the  crude  lumbermen's  feet.  When 
the  tree  was  nearly  cut  through  one  of  the  bea- 
vers walked  around  it  with  a  wise,  anxious  look 
in  its  bright  eyes.  When  the  animals  had  de- 
termined which  way  the  tree  would  fall  they 
went  to  the  opposite  side  and  with  several 
powerful  bites  the  wood  was  cut  away  so  that 
the  tree  became  unbalanced.  Presently  there 
was  a  crash ;  then  another  crash  that  echoed 
and  reechoed  along  the  stream.  The  beavers 
had  accomplished  their  self-appointed  task  and 
as  the  tree  fell  they  scampered  back  into  the 
water  fearing  that  enemies  might  be  attracted 
by  the  sound  of  the  falling  timber. 
[160] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

Full  Moon  lay  some  distance  down  the 
stream,  stretched  upon  the  bank  watching  an 
owl  catch  a  weasel  for  his  midnight  feast.  He 
heard  the  crashing  noise  made  by  the  falling 
tree  and  wondered  if  some  one  was  stealing  his 
father's  timber.  He  arose  and  quietly  crept 
along  in  his  moccasin-covered  feet  in  the  direc- 
tion whence  the  noise  came.  Presently  he 
came  to  the  stub  of  the  tree-trunk  which  was 
on  the  edge  of  the  bank  with  many  chips  scat- 
tered about.  Across  the  stream  lay  the  stately 
tree  with  its  top  branches  far  upon  the  opposite 
bank.  But  where  was  the  lumberman  thief? 
Full  Moon  was  puzzled.  He  put  his  ear  to 
the  ground  and  listened ;  there  was  no  sound 
of  distant  footsteps.  Then  he  picked  up  some 
of  the  chips  that  lay  near  the  tree  and  examined 
them  closely  with  his  sharp,  black  eyes  by  the 
light  of  the  moon.  He  found  a  little  ridge 
down  the  middle  of  the  face  of  each  chip  as 
though  the  axe  that  made  it  had  a  deep  notch 
in  it.  Next  he  carefully  scrutinized  the  chips 
on  the  other  side  of  the  stump  and  found  them 
similarly  marked  but  the  ridges  were  not  so 
wide  nor  deep  and  the  chips  were  too  small  to 
[161] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

be  made  by  a  white  man's  axe.  Each  beaver 
leaves  his  own  signature  behind  him  ;  no  two 
have  teeth  that  make  exactly  the  same  marks 
upon  the  chips  they  cut.  In  this  way  the  ex- 
perienced trapper  and  Indian  can  tell  if  it  were 
an  old  or  young  beaver  who  did  the  cutting 
work.  Full  Moon  became  more  curious  and 
bewildered  as  he  looked  about  on  the  ground 
for  footprints.  Around  the  standing  stub  of 
the  tree  trunk  he  found  large  duck-like  tracks 
and  in  several  places  the  soft  earth  was  pressed 
in  somewhat  the  shape  of  a  great  spear-head 
with  the  point  rounded.  He  bent  low  and 
sniffed  the  ground;  a  peculiar  odor  reached  his 
nostrils  that  he  had  never  smelled  before  and 
he  knew  it  was  that  of  some  strange  animal. 
He  then  followed  the  fresh  tracks  down  to  the 
bank  of  the  stream  where  the  beavers  had  en- 
tered the  water.  Full  Moon  sat  long  upon  the 
bank  and  thought  and  thought  about  all  the 
animals  his  grandfather,  who  was  an  Arapaho 
chief,  had  mentioned  to  him.  He  knew  it  was 
not  a  thief  who  felled  the  tree  but  the  wonder- 
ful and  highly  prized  beavers  that  the  Great 
Spirit  had  sent  to  live  near  him.  He  ran  home 
[162] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

to  tell  his  parents  of  his  discovery  and  to  ask 
his  father  if  the  now  doubly  attractive  creek 
could  not  bear  the  name  of  the  welcome  new- 
comers. 

It  was  a  busy  time  for  the  beavers.  They 
had  their  dam  and  lodge  to  build  and  food  to 
gather  for  the  long  winter  months  when  they 
would  be  locked  in  a  home  surrounded  by  ice 
and  snow.  Their  busy  little  minds  were  not 
disturbed  in  their  delightful  new  home  by  the 
presence  of  prowling  fur-hunters  with  their  cruel 
traps.  So  they  were  happy  and  worked  the 
greater  part  of  each  night  as  only  beavers  can 
work. 

Full  Moon  had  now  but  one  great  ambition; 
the  hope  of  seeing  and  knowing  the  ways  of  the 
wise  little  animals  around  whom  so  many  beauti- 
ful legends  are  entwined.  How  often  he  had 
searched  the  streams  and  wished  that  the  Great 
Spirit  would  send  the  highly  prized  beaver  with 
his  fat  tail  covered  with  lustrous,  black,  horny 
scales;  the  reddish-brown  fur  that  made  such 
warm  caps  and  coats ;  the  juicy  flesh  roasted  in 
the  skin  after  the  hair  had  been  removed  by 
singeing.  How  often  his  mouth  had  watered 
[163] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

at  the  thought  of  this  delicious  morsel  that 
often  constituted  a  part  of  his  grandfather's 
feasts !  And  last,  but  not  least,  the  highly  prized 
castor — a  musk-like  fluid,  secreted  by  the 
beaver  and  which  they  deposit  upon  little  mounds 
of  dirt  filling  the  air  of  the  whole  neighborhood 
with  its  odor.  This  is  the  way  they  have 
of  telling  other  beavers  of  their  whereabouts. 
When  a  beaver  smells  this  peculiar  odor  he  be- 
comes very  much  excited  and  at  once  makes  for 
the  spot  when  he  covers  it  with  dirt  and  deposits 
a  new  supply.  Trappers  frequently  use  it  in 
baiting  their  traps.  The  Indians  consider  it  a 
great  food  delicacy.  Each  male  beaver  is  supplied 
with  two  small  sacs  containing  this  fluid.  The 
Indians  remove  these  highly  prized  sacs  from 
the  captured  animals  and  put  them  in  a  shady 
place  to  dry.  During  the  drying  a  gummy 
matter  exudes  through  the  sac.  It  is  this 
gummy  substance  that  the  Indians  delight  to 
eat.  The  little  bags  of  fat  that  are  situated  next 
to  the  sacs  of  castor  have  a  very  strong  odor; 
the  Indians  use  this  fat  to  mix  with  tobacco  and 
also  sometimes  as  an  article  of  food. 

Just  before  dark  Full  Moon,  with  his  boyish 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

heart  wildly  beating  with  expectation,  walked 
toward  the  creek.  By  the  way  he  found  a  bed 
of  wild  tansy.  He  rubbed  his  moccasins  well 
with  the  herb,  then  rolled  over  and  over  upon 
it  so  as  to  kill  the  human  odor  which  the  beaver 
with  his  keen  sense  of  smell  so  readily  detects. 
This  accomplished,  he  crept  along  the  bank  of 
the  creek  until  he  came  to  a  large  cottonwood 
tree,  up  which  he  climbed  and  went  out  on  one 
of  its  largest  branches.  There  he  lay  flat  along 
the  big  limb  from  which  he  could  see  up  and 
down  the  stream  and  back  some  distance  from 
its  banks.  Thus  he  waited.  Presently  he 
noticed  a  black  spot  in  the  water  floating  toward 
him.  On  and  on  it  came.  First  he  thought  it 
was  a  muskrat,  or  musquash  as  he  called  it,  but 
as  it  swam  nearer  he  saw  the  animal  was  too 
large  for  that.  It  didn't  swim  like  an  otter  and 
it  was  certainly  not  a  mink.  Could  it  be  the 
beaver?  The  leaves  from  the  branch  above 
swayed  in  the  breeze  and  slightly  obstructed  his 
view.  He  trembled  with  excitement  and  his 
heart  beat  so  hard  he  feared  the  approaching 
animal  might  hear  it !  If  he  moved  he  was  sure 
of  being  detected.  Soon  Nature  acted  more 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

kindly  toward  him,  as  she  always  does  if  we 
only  do  our  part  and  give  her  time.  The  leaves 
were  blown  in  the  other  direction  and  there  was 
the  animal  directly  in  front  of  him.  The  upper 
surface  of  its  body  moved  up  and  down  in  the 
water  in  a  curved  line  bringing  a  third  of  the 
total  length  above  water  at  a  time.  When  the 
animal  passed  by  he  saw  its  great,  flat  tail  dragged 
behind  motionless.  He  had  seen  the  stranger  at 
last !  It  was  the  beaver.  He  strained  his  eyes 
to  get  a  better  view  while  the  animal  uncon- 
sciously swam  up  stream  and  was  joined  by  his 
companion.  They  were  so  nearly  of  a  size  and 
looked  so  much  alike  that  Full  Moon  could  not 
distinguish  one  from  the  other.  When  they 
reached  a  place  where  the  bank  was  low  and 
sloping  they  crawled  up  its  side  and  walked 
awkwardly  around  among  the  trees,  stopping 
now  and  then  and  raising  themselves  upon  their 
hind  legs  to  listen.  Presently  one  of  them 
selected  a  large  willow  tree  and  with  a  few  cuts 
from  their  sharp,  front  teeth,  which  are  from 
four  to  five  inches  in  length,  the  beavers  soon 
brought  the  tree  to  the  ground.  They  began 
peeling  off  some  of  the  bark  for  food.  After 
[,66] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

they  had  finished  their  repast  they  proceeded  to 
cut  the  timber  into  lengths  that  could  be  easily 
rolled  to  the  bank  and  into  the  water  to  float 
down  stream,  to  the  spot  selected  for  their  dam 
the  night  before.  The  site  chosen  was  where 
they  cut  the  tree  that,  fortunately  for  the 
beavers,  grew  on  the  edge  of  the  bank — and 
the  noise  of  the  fall  of  which  led  to  their  dis- 
covery by  Full  Moon.  These  wise  little  animals 
are  economic  engineers  and  never  fail  to  accept 
the  aid  that  nature  throws  in  their  way.  So 
finding  the  tree  where  the  surroundings  were 
most  suitable  they  saved  much  time  and  labor 
by  cutting  it  so  that  it  fell  across  the  stream,  to 
act  as  a  foundation  for  the  now  rapidly  growing 
dam.  After  Full  Moon  left  them  on  that  first 
eventful  night  that  marked  the  beginning  of  the 
foundation  of  the  first  dam  built  by  the  beavers 
of  Beaver  Creek,  the  busy,  little  animals  cut  off 
the  top  of  the  tree  and  pulled  it  to  one  side. 
Then  they  bit  off  all  the  branches  from  the 
under  side  of  the  trunk  so  that  the  tree  could 
settle  to  the  desired  height  to  form  the  top  of 
the  dam.  Next,  they  trimmed  the  upper 
branches  close  to  the  trunk  and  used  them  to 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

weave  into  the  long  stubs  that  extended  down 
from  the  trunk  into  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of 
the  stream.  Then  the  brush  from  the  top  of 
the  tree  was  pulled  down  against  the  water  side 
of  the  structure  and  covered  with  mud,  carried 
between  the  fore  paws  and  chin,  to  fill  in  the 
chinks  and  small  stones  to  hold  it  down;  the 
dam  now  began  to  take  on  a  substantial  aspect. 
Nearly  all  night  for  many  a  week  nature's  little 
lumbermen  felled  the  trees  and  floated  them 
down  stream  or  carried  branches  in  their  mouths, 
thrown  across  their  shoulders  and  trailing  be- 
hind upon  the  water  if  the  limb  was  of  a  bushy 
nature  and  small  enough  to  handle  in  this  way. 
This  wonderful  progress  went  on  before  Full 
Moon's  astonished  eyes  as  he  lay  night  after 
night,  motionless  upon  the  branch  of  the  great 
cottonwood  tree  with  his  limbs  stiffened  and 
benumbed  with  cold.  Once  Full  Moon  could 
endure  the  cold  no  longer  and  moved  to  rest  his 
aching  legs  a  little.  In  an  instant  one  of  the 
animals,  who  saw  him  when  he  made  the  un- 
fortunate move,  threw  the  hind  part  of  its  body 
out  of  the  water  as  it  descended  headforemost 
and  brought  its  trowel-like  tail  down  upon  the 
[168] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

surface  and  deep  below  it,  with  a  heavy  stroke, 
causing  a  sound  like  the  report  of  a  pistol  that 
rang  out  on  the  stillness  of  the  night  and  caused 
even  the  heart  of  the  brave  Indian  boy  to  quake. 
At  the  same  time  the  force  of  the  blow  upon 
the  water  threw  a  spray  several  feet  high  and 
the  signal  of  alarm  could  be  distinctly  heard  for 
a  half  mile  or  more  along  the  stream.  Full 
Moon  slid  down  the  tree  trunk  with  stiffened 
limbs  and  walked  homeward.  He  had  actually 
spent  many  nights  with  the  beavers  and  watched 
them  at  their  work.  In  a  surprisingly  short  time 
when  the  workers  are  considered  the  dam  was 
completed.  Near  the  crest  the  wonderful  struc- 
ture was  made  porous  so  that  the  water  could 
filter  through;  thus  the  wise  little  engineers 
were  able  to  keep  the  water  in  their  yard  at  a 
uniform  height.  With  the  exception  of  the 
porous  strip  near  the  top  of  the  dam  the  entire 
water  front  was  plastered  solidly  with  mud.  The 
beavers  had  completed  one  of  the  most  important 
structures  for  their  safety.  From  ten  to  fifteen 
feet  of  water  is  an  absolute  necessity  for  the  sur- 
roundings of  a  beaver's  winter  home.  There 
are  a  number  of  other  ways  in  which  beavers 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

build  dams.      They  all  depend  on  the  nature 
of  the  stream  and  the  materials  surrounding  it. 

The  creek  had  changed  its  course  somewhat 
during  the  freshet  of  the  previous  spring  mak- 
ing a  deep  bend.  When  the  water  rose  from 
the  dam  it  fell  back  to  the  east  and  around  the 
little  plot  of  ground  at  the  bend  making  a  min- 
iature island  upon  which  the  beavers  built  their 
winter  home,  or  lodge  as  it  is  called.  First 
they  dug  two  long  passages  from  the  island  far 
out  into  deep  water.  One  was  to  be  used  as  a 
family  entrance  and  the  other  to  bring  in  food. 
Upon  the  opening  of  the  two  subaqueous  chan- 
nels they  built,  or  rather  threw  together,  a  rude 
shaped  structure  composed  of  brush,  logs  and 
great  masses  of  mud  and  small  stones.  The 
first  winter  the  beavers  built  a  modest  home 
some  twelve  feet  across  and  seven  feet  high ;  it 
was  made  high  as  a  precaution  against  the  early 
spring  freshets  that  are  so  destructive  and  so 
characteristic  of  all  western  streams.  They 
didn't  need  a  massive  structure  for  there  were 
only  two  of  them  to  house  and,  being  sensible 
animals,  they  cared  nothing  for  show  but  en- 
deavored to  be  comfortable  and  get  the  most 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

out  of  life  at  the  least  possible  expense.  There 
was  but  one  living  room  in  their  winter  castle 
as  in  that  of  all  beavers.  The  walls  were  over 
five  feet  thick.  The  only  ventilation  was 
through  the  porous  material  of  the  structure 
near  the  top  of  the  lodge  and  through  which 
the  animals  received  all  the  fresh  air  they 
breathed.  It  would  not  have  been  enough  to 
keep  you  and  I  alive  but  it  was  quite  sufficient 
for  the  little  furry  occupants.  The  floor  of  the 
room  was  covered  with  brush  and  plastered 
smooth  and  hard  with  mud.  The  outside  was 
finished  with  sticks,  slough  grass  and  mud.  On 
the  whole  it  was  not  very  decorative  but  satis- 
factorily answered  the  purpose  for  which  it  was 
intended.  It  defied  the  sharp  claws  of  any 
four-footed  enemies  and  even  man's  axe  would 
find  it  hard  to  break  through.  The  wise  little 
beavers,  housed  snugly  in  their  strong  fortifica- 
tion, whiled  the  weary  winter  months  away  in 
one  long,  jolly  vacation,  darting  here  and  there 
among  the  fishes  and  other  water  neighbors, 
pulling  up  a  rush  or  green  water-plant  for  their 
noonday  salad,  all  unseen  and  protected  by  the 
icy  canopy  above. 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

But  before  they  went  into  this  winter  resi- 
dence and  beaver  luxury  there  was  many  a  busy 
night's  work  to  accomplish  —  for  even  beavers, 
like  all  other  animals  including  man,  must  work 
or  in  some  way  compensate  for  the  luxuries 
they  receive. 

On  the  opposite  shore  where  the  bank  was 
high  they  dug  a  long  burrow  starting  under 
water  and  digging  back  and  up  into  the  bank 
for  ten  or  twelve  feet  terminating  it  under  the 
roots  of  an  old  cottonwood  tree.  This  burrow 
they  would  use  as  a  home  in  summer  and  for  a 
place  of  refuge  in  winter  should  their  lodge  be 
broken  into  or  otherwise  meet  with  accident. 
The  last  hard  task  before  the  icy  gates  closed 
them  within  these  walls  and  one  which  kept  them 
busy  for  some  time  was  laying  in  the  supply  of 
wood  the  bark  of  which  was  to  serve  for  food 
during  the  long  winter  months.  Then  all  the 
beaver  needs  to  do  when  he  feels  hungry  is  to 
crawl  down  the  subaqueous  passage  to  the 
store-house  in  his  watery  yard,  select  the  stick 
that  best  suits  his  fancy,  carry  it  through  the 
hall  made  for  that  purpose  and  sit  in  his  lodge 
and  feast.  As  the  bark  is  peeled  from  the  tim- 
['74] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

bers  they  are  laid  neatly  to  one  side  for  future 
use  in  repairing  the  dam  or  adding  to  its 
strength.  The  beaver  stands  forth  in  the  ani- 
mal world  as  a  neat,  cleanly  and  systematic, 
four-footed  citizen. 

Full  Moon  often  visited  the  lodge  during 
the  winter,  while  on  his  hunting  rambles,  and 
enjoyed  many  a  whiff  of  the  beaver's  odor  that 
penetrated  through  the  top  of  the  dome-shaped 
structure.  He  was  waiting  for  the  time  when 
the  family  should  increase  so  he  could  claim 
some  of  them  as  his  own.  When  spring  came 
and  unlocked  the  icy  gates  and  frosty  nooks, 
the  beavers  left  their  winter  lodge  and  took  up 
their  home  in  the  burrow  under  the  opposite 
bank  and  the  old  cottonwood  tree.  During 
the  month  of  May  the  master  of  the  beaver 
home  was  often  seen  lazily  floating  about  on  the 
water  or  sunning  himself  upon  the  bank.  Later 
his  mate  appeared  with  four  cunning  little  bea- 
vers, with  wonderment  in  their  small  eyes  as  they 
first  beheld  the  great  world  surface  about  them. 
How  light  and  strange  and  big  it  all  seemed 
and  how  little  they  knew  of  what  it  would  all 
mean  to  them  even  in  their  little  beaver  world. 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

Strength  to  gain  lessons,  to  learn  disappoint- 
ment, to  encounter  difficulties,  and  success  and 
pleasures  to  enjoy  were  yet  to  be  theirs.  Life 
even  to  a  little  beaver  would  not  be  complete 
without  them  all  and  one  could  not  truly  be 
appreciated  without  the  other.  It  was  now 
made  plain  why  the  head  of  the  family  had 
been  seen  roaming  about  alone.  His  mate  had 
preferred  attending  to  her  motherly  family  duties 
without  the  aid  or  interference  of  her  compan- 
ion. So  he  made  the  most  of  the  situation  and 
enjoyed  himself  as  best  he  might  in  true  beaver 
fashion. 

The  beavers,  through  not  being  molested, 
lost  much  of  their  shyness  and  could  often  be 
seen  floating  and  playing  about  on  the  water  or 
diving  gracefully,  without  the  usual  signal  of 
danger ;  they  were  often  in  for  a  race  or  might 
be  seen  to  bite  and  play  with  one  another.  The 
young  beavers  looked  very  cunning  when  seen 
sitting  upon  a  stump  or  log  with  their  tails 
swung  around  by  their  sides  in  cat  fashion  but 
with  the  lower  surface  uppermost  and  the  root 
of  a  water-lily  or  a  piece  of  bark  held  in  their 
hands  and  the  head  bent  slightly  to  meet  the 
C'76] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

short  paws    as  they  daintily  nibbled    away  at 
their  lunch. 

After  whiling  away  the  pleasant  summer  and 
successfully  escaping  their  enemies  without  the 
loss  of  a  single  member  of  their  family  the 
happy  little  lumbermen  went  in  company  with 
their  young,  who  were  to  receive  their  first  les- 
sons in  the  arts  of  a  beaver  and  began  repairing 
their  dam  and  enlarging  their  winter  home  to 
accommodate  the  thrice  increased  numbers  in 
their  family.  This  was  accomplished  by  add- 
ing more  material  to  the  outside  and  digging 
out  the  inside  to  the  required  size.  Then 
there  was  a  much  larger  food  supply  to  be 
stored  away  —  but  in  due  time  all  was  accom- 
plished and  they  were  again  locked  in  out  of 
harm's  reach  for  the  second  winter  in  their 
home  on  Beaver  Creek.  Full  Moon  lost  none 
of  his  interest  in  these  industrious  furry  neigh- 
bors who  "worked  while  they  worked  and 
played  while  they  played."  It  was  from  his 
lips  after  he  was  a  grown  man,  living  in  the 
small  town  situated  upon  the  banks  of  the 
stream  near  the  old  beaver  dam,  that  he  told 
me  the  history  of  the  beavers  of  Beaver  Creek 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

—  as  I  am  now  relating  it  for  the  benefit  of 
my  readers. 

The  following  spring  there  were  six  more 
little  beavers  added  to  the  family.  In  the  fall 
the  lodge  was  made  still  larger  to  accommodate 
the  increase.  As  time  passed  they  had  their 
ups  and  downs  as  do  all  well  regulated  families. 
Several  of  their  number  lost  their  lives  either 
through  being  made  a  meal  by  their  enemy,  the 
otter,  who  made  his  home  in  the  neighborhood 
or  through  being  caught  in  Full  Moon's  steel 
trap.  The  third  summer  there  were  two  new 
lodges  built  not  far  from  the  parent  one.  The 
first  litter  of  young  had  left  the  parent's  roof 
for  ones  of  their  own  and  built  by  their  own 
efforts.  Each  family  gathered  its  own  food 
supply  and  would  rather  starve  than  borrow  or 
steal  from  a  neighbor,  and  each  dug  its  own 
family  burrow  for  summer  use.  But  the  dam 
was  repaired  and  looked  after  by  the  entire 
colony.  The  following  year  there  was  another 
dam  built  below  the  first  one  by  the  members 
who  left  the  parent  lodge  that  summer  and  the 
watery  city  of  mounds  continued  to  grow. 

During  the  summer  two  men,  an  Indian  and 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

a  white  man,  chanced  to  pass  that  way  and  dis- 
covered the  beaver  colony,  unknown  to  Full 
Moon,  who  claimed  full  possession  of  the 
coveted  animals  by  right  of  his  father  owning 
the  claim  along  the  portion  of  the  creek  upon 
which  the  beaver  homes  were  built.  The  men 
set  their  traps  and  passed  on  up  the  stream  in- 
tending to  return  the  following  day.  Just  be- 
fore dawn  Full  Moon  heard  a  pitiful,  wailing 
noise  like  the  cry  of  a  little  human  babe  in  dis- 
tress. He  arose  and  followed  in  the  direction 
whence  the  pleading  wails  came.  When  he 
neared  the  creek  the  sight  that  greeted  his  eyes 
stirred  even  the  heart  of  the  Indian  boy.  There 
on  the  bank  sat  two  little  beavers  crying  for 
their  mother,  who  was  caught  in  one  of  the 
strange  hunters'  traps  and  while  thus  held  help- 
less had  been  torn  to  pieces  by  her  enemy,  the 
wild  cat.  The  tracks  about  the  trap  led  to  the 
identification  of  the  murderous  thief.  The  vic- 
tim proved  to  be  the  mate  of  the  pioneer  couple 
who  first  laid  the  foundation  of  the  now  thriving 
beaver  town.  Long  had  they  lived  together  and 
many  were  the  struggles  and  hardships  his  faith- 
ful companion  had  shared  with  him  and  many  a 
[-79] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

narrow  escape  from  death  had  they  made  to- 
gether and  at  last  she  was  ruthlessly  taken  from 
him.  His  heart  was  broken;  he  left  his  home 
and  refused  to  be  comforted,  like  a  human  being. 
The  remainder  of  his  life  he  spent  in  solitude 
in  a  hermit's  den,  under  the  bank,  some  distance 
up  the  stream  and  away  from  the  scenes  of  his 
loves  and  joyful  earlier  life.  At  last  old,  heart- 
broken and  discouraged  he  carelessly  stepped 
into  a  trap  set  for  that  purpose  and  thus  was 
ended  his  now  wretched  life. 

Full  Moon  had  taken  the  little  beavers  that 
were  about  the  size  of  a  house-cat  home  with 
him.  In  a  brief  time  they  became  very  tame, 
would  eat  vegetables,  peeling  the  potatoes  and 
carrots  into  strips  with  their  front  teeth,  treating 
thus  all  food  served  for  the  family  meal.  They 
followed  Full  Moon  about  like  little  dogs  and 
answered,  when  called,  by  coming  to  him  often 
walking  on  their  hind  feet  and  balancing  them- 
selves with  their  tails.  They  were  always  very 
cleanly  and  showed  great  affection  for  their 
master.  Once,  while  he  was  away  for  several 
days,  when  they  missed  him,  they  walked  about 
the  room  uttering  groans  and  would  not  be 
[.80] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

entirely  pacified  until  he  returned.  Then  they 
stood  on  their  hind  legs,  crawled  upon  his  lap  and 
in  true  beaver  fashion  showed  their  affection  for 
him  and  their  pleasure  at  his  presence. 

Full  Moon  showed  me  a  beaver  skin  that  he 
kept  as  a  memento  of  one  of  the  little  animals 
that  lived  with  him  for  more  than  seven  years 
as  a  household  pet.  As  he  held  forth  the  hind 
foot  he  said :  *f  My  people  have  a  very  pretty 
legend  in  reference  to  the  peculiar,  characteris- 
tic, double  nail  on  the  beaver's  second  toe 
which  looks,  as  you  see,  as  if  the  toe  had  been 
split."  This  is  the  legend:  "Many,  many 
years  ago  there  lived  a  brave  old  warrior  named 
Bear  Voice.  His  tribe  had  been  greatly  weak- 
ened by  their  enemies  who  had  continually 
waged  war  against  them.  They  were  driven 
far  out  on  the  plains  and  away  from  the  course 
taken  by  the  great  buffalo  herds.  They  were 
reduced  to  poverty  and  almost  to  starvation. 
They  had  long  been  calling  to  the  Great  Spirit 
for  food  without  an  answer.  Bear  Voice  entered 
his  tent  very  hungry.  He  called  to  his  favorite 
squaw  to  bring  his  tobacco  pouch.  When  he 
had  smoked  his  pipe  he  went  forth  to  search 
[181] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

for  food.  On  the  banks  of  a  stream  he  found  a 
beaver  lodge.  He  entered  and  asked  the  master 
beaver  for  something  to  eat.  The  beaver  was 
grieved  for  he  had  nothing  for  Bear  Voice  to 
eat.  One  of  the  little  beavers  said, c  Father,  kill 
me  and  let  the  brave  warrior  eat  me  that  he  may 
not  starve ! '  The  father  beaver  consented  upon 
one  condition — Bear  Voice  was  not  to  bite  into 
any  of  the  bones.  The  little  beaver  with  his 
soft,  silky  fur  was  killed  and  the  great  warrior 
feasted.  While  eating  the  meat  from  the  hind 
foot  he  accidentally  bit  into  the  bone  of  the 
second  toe,  all  unnoticed  by  his  braver  host. 
When  Bear  Voice  had  finished,  the  father  beaver 
put  all  the  bones  of  his  late  little  son  into  the 
skin  and  threw  it  into  the  water.  Immediately 
the  self-sacrificed  little  beaver  came  to  life  and 
swam  back  to  the  lodge.  When  his  father  saw 
him  he  said, c  Are  you  all  right,  my  son?'  He 
answered, c  Yes  father,  save  the  second  toe  on  my 
hind  foot ;  he  bit  into  that  and  it  is  split/  Ever 
after  the  beavers  have  had  the  double  nail." 

As  years  passed  by  the  beaver  city  slowly 
increased  but  in  time  the  inhabitants  were  all 
trapped  and  the  dams  and  lodges  broken  down. 
[I8a] 


THE  BEAVERS  OF  BEAVER  CREEK 

All  that  remains  to  mark  the  memory  of  the 
once  prosperous  city  of  dome-shaped  lodges 
and  dams  is  the  name  of  the  creek  and  the  little 
town  upon  its  bank.  But  the  proceeds  from  the 
pelts  of  the  thousands  and  thousands  of  others 
of  this  wise  and  ancient  family  have  been  the 
foundation  of  the  wealth  that  built  some  of  the 
finest  buildings  in  the  great  metropolis,  erected 
not  by  nature's  simple  builders,  but  by  the 
master  hand  and  mind  of  man. 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  TWO 
BROTHERS 

SHORTLY  after  six  o'clock  on  a  pleasant 
evening  in  the  latter  part  of  June,  I  was 
returning  home  on  horseback  from  a 
neighborhood  visit.  As  my  pony  loped  around 
the  hill  I  heard  an  excited  voice  shout  several 
times,  in  French,  "  Les  enfants  du  diable," 
which  means  "the  child  of  the  devil,"  or  in 
other  words,  the  devil's  own  beast.  At  the  same 
time  my  nostrils  were  greeted  with  a  stifling 
odor  that  grew  stronger  and  more  offensive  as 
I  approached  the  source  whence  it  came. 

A  short  distance  up  the  hill  stood  an  old 
French  trapper  and  his  half-breed  son.  Before 
them  on  the  ground  lay  two  skunks  limp  and 
lifeless.  It  was  these  beautiful  little  animals 
that  had  brought  the  excited  exclamation  from 
the  old  Frenchman  as  they  discharged  their 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

acid-like  fluid  with  its  pungent  odor,  which  is 
their  only  means  of  defence. 

After  killing  the  parent  animals  the  trapper 
and  his  son  turned  their  attention  to  the  skunk's 
burrow.  With  my  handkerchief  held  to  my 
nose  I  rode  within  a  few  feet  of  the  poor  crea- 
tures who  had  just  lost  their  useful  lives.  Dis- 
mounting, I  stood  with  my  bridle-strap  over 
my  arm  in  rapt  admiration  as  the  trapper  un- 
earthed five  little  black  and  white  kitten-like 
skunks,  four  to  five  inches  long.  They  were 
huddled  together  in  a  round  ball  of  fur  upon  a 
bed  of  dry  grass. 

The  trapper  looked  at  me  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  his  eye  and  said,  "you  want  some"? 
I  was  delighted  and  at  once  held  out  my  empty 
lunch-basket  in  which  to  receive  them.  His 
son,  who  had  lived  with  us  and  had  been  my 
companion  on  many  a  long  ramble  over  the 
plains,  thought  more  kindly  and  told  me  to 
leave  my  basket  and  go  away  for  a  little  while. 
During  my  absence  he  removed  the  scent- 
glands  from  three  of  the  little  skunks.  He 
then  lined  the  basket  with  some  soft  grass  and 
into  it  tucked  the  three  harmless  creatures. 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

The  anal  scent-glands  of  these  interesting 
animals  are  both  offensive  and  defensive  organs 
but  their  secretion  is  never  distributed  except 
under  impulse  of  fear  or  for  protection.  If  not 
disturbed  or  needlessly  alarmed  the  peculiar 
odor  of  these  animals  is  not  made  manifest. 
They  share  this  musk-secreting  power  with 
many  animals,  but  theirs  is  most  peculiar  and 
penetrating. 

I  rode  slowly  homeward,  holding  the  basket 
so  as  not  to  greatly  jar  my  highly  prized  gifts. 
On  reaching  home  I  put  my  newly  found  pets 
into  a  wooden  box  lined  with  soft  hay  and 
placed  it  in  one  corner  of  our  granary.  For 
several  days  the  skunks  seemed  weak  as  a  re- 
sult of  having  their  scent-glands  removed.  I 
could  not  coax  them  to  eat  and  so,  on  the  sec- 
ond day,  I  opened  their  mouths  and  fed  milk 
to  them  with  a  spoon.  In  a  short  time,  how- 
ever, they  recovered  and  became  very  playful 
and  tame.  They  would  follow  me  around  the 
yard  and  garden  like  puppies,  eating  grasshop- 
pers and  other  harmful  insects  that  chanced  to 
cross  their  paths. 

The  larger  of  the  three  I  named  Mongola, 
[,86] 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

for  his  eyes  seemed  to  be  placed  more  obliquely 
than  those  of  the  others,  thus  reminding  me  of 
a  Chinaman.  The  hairs  in  his  tail  stood  out 
and  fell  loosely  in  all  directions  when  it  was 
raised,  like  the  beautiful  plumes  of  a  pompon. 
His  head  was  cone-shaped,  with  a  long  pointed 
nose  and  little  ears,  that  were  almost  entirely 
hidden  in  the  fur.  A  streak  of  white  extended 
along  the  center  of  the  front  of  his  head,  broad- 
ening into  a  wide  patch  back  of  his  ears.  From 
this  patch  it  extended  downward  in  a  strip  along 
each  side  of  the  animal  to  the  base  of  his  tail. 
With  the  exception  of  this  white  trimming  and 
the  underpart  of  the  tail  and  its  tip  Mongola 
was  dressed  in  glossy  black  hair. 

The  second  one  I  called  Cannibal.  He  was 
the  first  to  eat  some  live  grasshoppers  I  put 
into  the  box  to  tempt  their  dainty  appetites. 
The  third  was  called  Snip,  for  he  was  smaller 
and  seemingly  more  backward  than  the  others. 

Cannibal  and  Snip  were  marked  similarly  to 
Mongola,  except  that  the  white  fur  of  their 
coats  was  more  prominent  and  the  hairs  on 
their  tails  stood  out  on  each  side  only  when 
they  raised  them  gracefully  above  their  black 


\ 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

backs.  The  front  of  little  Snip's  head  was 
nearly  all  white  and  the  white  patch  extended 
well  out  on  his  shoulders.  The  color  markings 
of  these  animals  follow  a  general  and  well-de- 
fined scheme,  but  there  are  interesting  varia- 
tions. 

Before  they  were  able  to  climb  out  of  their 
home  they  would  stand  on  their  hind  legs  as  I 
approached  the  box.  If  I  did  not  notice  them 
they  would  stamp  their  feet  and  chatter  at  me 
in  such  a  knowing  way,  as  much  to  say,  "we 
want  to  get  out  and  find  our  own  food."  When 
I  put  my  hand  down  into  the  box,  one  by  one 
they  would  crawl  up  my  arm  to  my  shoulder 
and  wait  for  me  to  place  them  on  the  ground. 
Then  they  would  scamper  along,  each  one  en- 
deavoring to  walk  nearer  my  feet  than  the 
other,  until  one  spied  a  grasshopper  or  a  beetle, 
and  away  they  would  trot  in  the  daintiest  pos- 
sible way  and  never  notice  me  again  until  they 
had  eaten  every  insect  they  could  discover. 
The  food  of  these  animals  includes  large  num- 
bers of  insects  which  renders  them  of  economic 
importance  to  farmers.  On  one  of  these  ram- 
bles, Snip  undertook  to  eat  a  large  stag-beetle. 
[188] 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

The  beetle  pinched  his  nose!  It  was  very 
funny  to  watch  him  as  he  shook  it  off,  but  each 
time  he  struck  at  the  beetle  it  struck  back  giv- 
ing him  many  a  sharp  nip.  Snip,  however,  was 
game  and  at  last  crushed  the  horny  covering  of 
the  insect  and  devoured  it  with  a  little  grunt  of 
satisfaction  greatly  to  the  admiration  of  his 
brothers  and  myself.  Others  than  skunks  have 
a  similar  grunting  habit  when  they  eat ! 

It  was  early  in  September,  before  the  grain 
had  been  threshed  and  placed  in  the  granary. 
Late  one  afternoon  I  sat  on  the  floor  with  my 
pets.  Mongola  was  perched  on  my  shoulder, 
amusing  himself  by  trying  to  pull  out  a  paste- 
board slat  from  an  opening  in  my  calico  sun- 
bonnet  that  hung  by  its  strings  from  my  neck. 
Snip  lay  in  my  lap  asleep,  while  Cannibal,  who 
was  possessed  of  more  than  his  share  of  curi- 
osity, was  making  his  way  into  a  bag  partly  rilled 
with  corn,  seeking  to  learn  its  contents.  Pres- 
ently a  tiny  little  mouse  crept  out  from  a  hole 
near-by.  He  looked  cautiously  around,  then 
crept  slowly  toward  some  golden  grains  of  wheat 
that  lay  scattered  on  the  granary  floor.  As 
soon  as  Mongola  saw  the  mouse,  he  dropped 
[189] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

the  slat  from  my  bonnet,  which  he  was  tearing 
into  small  pieces  and  sat  up  with  his  attention 
centered  upon  the  timid  little  creature.  It 
seemed  as  though  his  heart  had  stopped  beat- 
ing, he  sat  so  still  and  motionless,  with  his 
sharp  little  eyes  watching  every  movement  of 
the  mouse.  The  mouse  stopped,  sniffed  the 
air  and  waved  her  whiskers  as  she  turned  her 
head  from  side  to  side.  As  Mongola  and  I 
were  perfectly  motionless  she  saw  nothing  that 
seemed  dangerous  to  her.  So  she  again  di- 
rected her  attention  to  the  bountiful  meal  that 
was  spread  before  her,  crept  nearer  and  began 
to  nibble  the  grains  of  wheat.  As  she  moved 
from  kernel  to  kernel  her  back  was  turned  to- 
ward us.  Mongola  grasped  the  opportunity 
and  quietly  slid  down  from  my  shoulder.  He 
stood  for  a  moment  on  the  corner  of  my  apron, 
then  quietly  tiptoed  across  the  floor  in  a  dainty, 
mincing  manner.  When  he  was  within  reach 
of  the  mouse  he  rose  on  his  hind  legs,  sprang 
in  an  instant  upon  the  quivering  little  creature 
and  grasped  it  between  his  paws.  A  pitiful 
squeak  from  the  captured  mouse  and  a  growl 
from  Mongola  brought  Snip  and  the  all-curious 
[190] 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

Cannibal  to  his  side.  He  backed  off,  holding 
the  mouse  firmly  between  his  teeth,  growled  and 
stamped  his  feet  whenever  his  less  favored  broth- 
ers or  even  I  approached  too  near.  In  the  mean- 
time he  devoured  the  little  creature  in  a  most 
ferocious  way.  From  that  day  on  the  skunks 
proved  themselves  valuable  pets  by  keeping  the 
granary  and  house  free  from  mice. 

It  was  some  time  before  my  dog  became 
reconciled  to  the  dainty  little  brutes  that  de- 
manded so  much  of  my  attention.  Several 
times  I  was  obliged  to  scold  and  punish  him  for 
worrying  them.  One  morning  late  in  October 
the  dog  was  stretched  out  at  full  length  before 
the  kitchen  door  taking  his  morning  sun-bath. 
I  was  feeding  the  chickens  in  the  yard  when  I 
noticed  Cannibal  crawl  out  from  under  the 
wood-shed  and  walk  toward  the  dog.  Every 
few  feet  he  would  stop  and  look  at  him.  The 
long,  black  object  did  not  move  and  he  came 
closer.  Soon  he  was  within  a  foot  of  him. 
The  dog  moved  his  ear  to  throw  off  a  lingering 
fly.  In  an  instant  Cannibal's  tail  was  raised  and 
he  stepped  back  several  feet,  never  taking  his 
eyes  from  the  flap  of  the  dog's  ear  that  had 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

alarmed  him.  His  curiosity  was  aroused  and 
at  last  overcame  his  fear  and  better  judgment. 
He  crept  back  to  the  object  of  attraction  and 
made  bold  enough  to  stick  the  end  of  his  nose 
into  the  dog's  ear.  The  dog  thus  rudely  awak- 
ened grabbed  the  curious  little  beast  by  the 
back  of  his  neck  and  soundly  shook  him. 
When  the  dog  saw  me  he  dropped  my  thor- 
oughly frightened  pet  and  walked  away  in  a 
most  disgusted  manner.  Ever  afterwards  he 
treated  the  three  little  pets  as  he  did  the  cat, 
never  even  deigning  to  notice  them. 

The  following  week  the  winter  supply  of 
soap  was  made  in  a  great  iron  kettle,  hung  over 
an  open  fire  in  the  yard.  In  the  afternoon  I 
shut  the  skunks  into  the  granary,  for  I  feared 
they  would  be  attracted  by  the  scraps  of  meat 
used  in  making  the  soap.  At  night  the  con- 
tents of  the  great  iron  kettle  were  turned  into 
tubs  to  cool  and  harden.  The  next  morning 
when  I  went  to  the  granary  to  release  my  pets 
Cannibal  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

Just  above  the  oat-bin  a  little  door  had  been 
left    open.     Through    this    opening    Cannibal 
must  have  escaped.     With  Mongola  and  Snip 
E>9»] 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

I  searched  everywhere,  but  without  avail.  At 
last  some  one  suggested  the  shed  in  which  the 
newly  made  soap  was  placed.  I  rushed  there 
trembling  with  fear.  When  I  opened  the  door 
the  first  thing  I  saw  was  poor  unfortunate  Can- 
nibal, with  his  eyes  turned  upward  in  the  center 
of  one  of  the  largest  tubs,  held  in  a  solid  vise 
of  soap.  My  curious,  mischievous  little  pet 
had  lost  his  life  through  his  one  great  weak- 
ness, indiscreet  curiosity  that  had  so  often 
brought  him  to  grief  in  his  short  but  eventful 
life. 

Near  the  close  of  the  following  month  we 
had  a  light  snow-storm.  At  night,  while  attend- 
ing to  my  usual  tasks,  I  noticed  the  tracks  of  a 
fox  along  the  road  and  up  the  hillside.  I  closed 
the  hen-house  with  more  than  usual  care  that 
night,  but  seeing  nothing  of  the  fox  I  dismissed 
him  from  my  mind.  The  following  evening  as 
I  sat  by  the  window  watching  the  beautiful  sun- 
set above  the  white,  snow-covered  hills  I  no- 
ticed Mongola  and  Snip  playing  in  the  snow 
near  the  window.  They  ran  after  each  other, 
cuffed  one  another's  ears  and  rolled  over  like 
two  kittens  in  play.  Presently  they  stopped, 
['93] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

raised  their  tails  and  backed  off  in  alarm.  There 
stood  a  great  red  fox  within  a  few  feet  of  them. 
Snip  was  between  Mongola  and  their  cunning 
enemy.  I  rushed  to  their  rescue,  but  as  I 
stepped  from  the  door  the  fox  grabbed  poor 
little  Snip  and  made  off  with  him.  The  fox 
seemed  to  laugh  at  my  frantic  efforts  and  grief. 
He  stopped  and  looked  back  with  poor  little 
Snip  dangling  from  his  mouth  as  he  held  him 
firmly  by  the  neck  which  he  had  crushed  between 
his  jaws.  Then  off  he  galloped  with  long  leaps 
and  was  soon  lost  to  view.  As  he  disappeared 
behind  the  hill  the  brilliant  sunset  was  hidden 
by  a  gray  cloud  that  had  floated  between  earth 
and  sky  as  though  in  sympathy  with  me.  I 
turned  in  despair  and  clasped  little  Mongola  in 
my  arms  and  wept.  It  was  too  cruel;  within 
six  weeks  time  two  of  my  useful  little  pets  had 
been  taken  from  me!  Poor  lonely  Mongola 
stuck  his  nose  against  my  neck,  then  raised  his 
little  face  to  mine  and  licked  my  cheek  in  silent, 
brute  sympathy. 

Mongola  was  now  full  grown  and  about  the 
size  of  our  house-cat.     His  hind-quarters  were 
much  the  heavier,  giving  to  his  back  a  graceful 
['94] 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

broad  arch.  Since  the  loss  of  his  companions 
he  became  very  dear  to  me  and  seldom  left  my 
side  of  an  evening  when  I  was  at  home.  Skunks 
are  nocturnal  animals  and  spend  most  of  the  day 
in  sleep.  I  made  a  little  willow  basket  for  Mon- 
gola  to  sleep  in  and  placed  an  old  feather  cushion 
in  it  for  a  bed.  One  Sunday  evening,  while  en- 
tertaining the  Methodist  circuit  preacher  in  our 
house,  we  were  disturbed  at  tea,  in  the  midst  of 
an  interesting  experience  which  our  good-na- 
tured guest  was  relating,  by  seeing  feathers  flying 
in  all  directions,  lighting  on  our  hair,  floating  in 
our  tea  and  resting  on  the  butter  and  jam  ! 
Mongola  had  torn  open  the  feather  cushion  to 
satisfy  his  curiosity  and  his  head  and  paw  had 
become  entangled  in  the  cover.  He  tossed  the 
pillow  frantically  about  in  an  attempt  to  free 
himself.  Round  and  round  he  turned  scattering 
the  feathers  about,  greatly  to  the  discomfort  of 
my  mother  and  the  merriment  of  the  preacher. 
I  left  the  table  to  release  the  skunk  and  thus 
prevent  the  room  from  being  covered  with  the 
remainder  of  the  feathers.  Mongola  disap- 
peared under  the  indignant  gaze  of  my  mother 
and  the  threats  of  my  father.  When  I  went  to 
['95] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

bed  that  night  I  found  the  little  brute  curled 
snugly  under  my  pillow.  Here  and  there  was  a 
white  feather  sticking  to  his  shaggy  hair,  giving 
him  a  most  comical  appearance. 

In  the  early  morning  Mongola  would  climb 
up  the  stairs  to  my  room  and  crawl  upon  my 
bed.  If  I  pretended  to  be  asleep  he  would  nip 
my  ear  or  pull  my  hair  until  I  noticed  him.  At 
other  times  he  would  root  his  way  under  the 
covers  and  nestle  in  my  arms.  He  was  too 
mischievous  to  remain  quiet  for  any  length  of 
time.  As  soon  as  I  was  dressed  he  would  climb 
upon  my  shoulder  to  be  carried  downstairs 
again. 

One  night  I  was  awakened  by  a  noise  in  the 
pantry  below.  Crash  after  crash  rang  up  through 
the  hole  in  the  floor  that  was  intended  for  a 
stove-pipe.  Another  crash,  then  a  thump  fol- 
lowed, a  growl  from  Mongola  and  a  sharp  little 
squeak.  Then  all  was  quiet.  Presently  the 
familiar  thump,  thump,  thump  of  Mongola's 
cushioned  paws  ascending  the  stairs  and  pat- 
tering across  the  floor  to  my  bed.  I  could  see 
quite  plainly  as  the  light  from  the  full  moon 
came  in  at  the  window.  How  strange  Mongola 
[196] 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

looked !  His  hairs  all  seemed  stuck  to  one  an- 
other and  smoothly  plastered  down.  His  tail 
was  covered  in  the  same  way  and  he  left  a  brown 
streak  on  the  floor.  He  climbed  upon  the  bed 
and  the  white  bedspread  was  spotted  and  daubed 
as  he  crawled  over  it  and  looked  at  me  with  his 
little  black  eyes.  He  touched  my  hand  with 
his  nose  which  was  sticky  and  I  found  that  his 
body  was  covered  with  sorghum.  It  was  all 
plain  to  me  now.  A  poaching  mouse  in  the 
pantry  had  claimed  the  attention  of  Mongola. 
When  he  had  caught  it  on  the  pantry  shelf  he 
had  overturned  a  jar  of  home-made  molasses  or 
sorghum,  so  well  known  to  the  western  farmers. 
The  noise  that  awakened  me  was  caused  by  the 
breaking  of  the  jar  and  other  dishes  that  chanced 
to  be  in  its  way  as  it  fell.  It  took  several  days 
to  get  Mongola  clean  —  he  was  already  sweet. 
A  number  of  baths  were  required  before  I  was 
able  to  entirely  free  his  hair  of  the  sticky  sor- 
ghum. 

The  winter  passed.     Mongola  was  forever 
getting  under  some  one's  feet  or  into  some  mis- 
chief and  I  had  no  little  difficulty  in  excusing 
him.     I  was  constantly  begging  for  his  pardon 
t'97] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

and  holding  forth  his  leading  virtue,  that  of 
ridding  the  house  of  mice  and  insects. 

When  Mongola  was  a  year  old  I  felt  he  must 
be  lonely  without  a  mate.  So  after  petting  him 
for  a  long  time  I  considered  that  if  I  truly  loved 
him,  I  ought  to  be  willing  to  lose  the  pleasure 
my  pet  afforded  me,  as  it  would  doubtless  be  for 
his  advantage  if  he  were  among  his  own  kind. 
This  it  seemed  should  give  him  greater  happi- 
ness and  was  certainly  his  natural  right. 

One  morning  in  June  I  took  him  for  a  long 
walk  beside  the  edge  of  a  slough  in  the  hope  of 
meeting  one  of  his  wild  neighbors.  If  I  walked 
too  fast  he  grew  angry  and  turned  back,  but  if 
he  chose  to  take  the  lead  he  seemed  to  consider 
it  quite  a  different  thing  and  expected  me  to 
follow.  Presently  he  put  his  nose  to  the  ground, 
turned  and  looked  at  me,  then  scampered  off 
into  the  long  slough  grass.  I  followed  the  wave 
on  the  surface  of  the  grass,  caused  by  his  body 
as  he  passed  beneath  it.  A  field-sparrow  flew 
above  my  head  and  circled  directly  over  Mon- 
gola uttering  her  plaintive  alarm  chirps.  I 
knew  the  little  beast  had  discovered  the  bird's 
nest,  so  I  ran  to  prevent  him  from  eating  the 
[198] 


He  walked  toward  her,  his  bushy  tail  held  up" 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

eggs  or  the  young.  There  was  the  round  nest 
on  the  ground,  deftly  woven  of  grass  and  stems 
and  within  it  were  three  little  birds,  one  of  which 
Mongola  had  secured  before  I  could  reach  him. 
Poor  Mongola  could  not  understand  why  he 
had  so  grieved  me.  He  was  only  employing 
his  natural  instinct  in  securing  the  tender  little 
bird-morsel  from  the  bird-home.  I  felt  so 
sorry  for  the  bird  mother.  I  took  Mongola 
home,  forgetting  all  about  the  mission  upon 
which  I  had  started.  One  evening  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  same  week  Mongola  went  with  me 
to  the  meadow  to  "picket"  my  pony  for  the 
night ;  as  I  was  driving  the  wooden  picket-pin 
into  the  earth  I  noticed  a  strange  little  skunk 
but  a  few  feet  in  front  of  me  with  her  tail  held 
high  over  her  back,  apparently  much  interested 
in  what  I  was  doing.  As  soon  as  Mongola 
discovered  the  presence  of  the  pretty  creature 
he  walked  toward  her,  his  bushy  tail  held  up, 
with  each  hair  falling  gracefully  before  the  eve- 
ning breeze.  When  he  was  within  reach  of 
her  he  touched  her  nose  with  his  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  walk  around  her.  She  backed  off 
and  looked  at  him,  uttered  a  low  growl  and 

[201] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

walked  away.  Mongola  followed.  She  in- 
creased her  speed  and  he  still  followed  her. 
How  my  heart  beat !  My  first  impulse  was  to 
run  after  him.  For  I  had  not  realized  until 
then  what  it  would  really  mean  to  lose  this 
playful  little  pet.  I  was  determined,  however, 
to  let  him  go,  for  I  felt  it  was  right  at  any  cost 
to  myself  to  give  the  little  fellow  his  liberty  if 
he  wished  it.  As  the  skunks  disappeared  in 
the  tall  grass,  I  turned  to  my  pony  and  laid  my 
head  on  his  neck  for  comfort.  I  stood  thus 
thinking  and  mourning  my  loss.  Presently  I 
felt  a  tiny  little  jerk  at  my  dress.  There  stood 
Mongola  on  his  hind  feet,  scratching  at  the  hem 
of  my  skirt  to  attract  my  attention !  He  looked 
up  at  me  with  his  earnest  little  eyes  and  seemed 
to  say — "I  have  come  back,  don't  you  want 
me?"  Dear  Mongola!  He  loved  me  best, 
better  than  the  wild  freedom  of  the  prairie  and 
the  companionship  of  his  own  kind.  How  I 
loved  him !  How  glad  I  was  to  think  I  had 
unselfishly  offered  him  his  freedom  !  I  grabbed 
the  little  animal  and  showered  him  with  kisses, 
then  set  him  on  the  back  of  my  pony  and  stood 
off  to  admire  them  together.  It  was  true  the 

[202] 


MONGOLA  AND  HIS  BROTHERS 

little  beast  knew  no  other  life  but  that  of  a 
household  pet  and  really  did  but  the  natural 
thing  to  return  to  me  at  this  time  of  the  year, 
since  it  was  past  the  mating  season.  But  no 
one  could  have  persuaded  me  to  believe  that 
he  had  not  made  the  sacrifice  for  me. 

Skunks  as  a  rule  are  very  fond  of  chickens. 
I  never  knew  of  Mongola  molesting  any  of 
ours,  but  I  always  took  care  to  keep  him  away 
from  the  hens  while  with  their  young  broods. 

In  the  fall  Mongola  was  killed  by  a  strange 
dog  belonging  to  one  of  our  neighbors.  I  was 
thus  robbed  of  my  pet,  but  not  of  the  sweet 
memories  of  our  delightful  companionship. 


[»03] 


PRAIRIE  POCKET-GOPHERS 

IT  was  before  that  part  of  the  country  was 
settled  by  the  white  man,  when  the   red 
man  of  the  plains  roamed  in  happy  freedom 
over  his  rightful  domain.     He  never  molested 
the  gophers  or  even  noticed  their  coming  or 
going,  for  they  were  neither  of  benefit  nor  hin- 
drance to  his  happiness  or  manner  of  living. 

A  young  gopher  left  his  parental  burrow  and 
entered  upon  his  career  as  a  hermit  and  a 
miner.  He  dug  an  avenue  off  from  the  old 
home,  but  not  finding  many  tubers  or  tender 
roots  he  independently  sought  a  new  locality. 
One  evening  at  sundown  he  came  above  ground 
and  started  across  the  meadow  to  the  long  hill- 
side, where  grew  the  bunch-grass  and  a  goodly 
number  of  tuberous  sunflower  plants.  He 
silently  took  up  his  claim  near  the  foot  of  the 
[204] 


PRAIRIE  POCKET-GOPHERS 

hill  and  began  to  throw  up  hillocks  of  dirt 
which  was  a  warning  that  no  other  four-footed 
miner  should  trespass  upon  his  domain.  All 
night  he  worked  and  in  the  morning  there  were 
a  dozen  little  mounds  to  demonstrate  his  in- 
dustry. He  dug  avenues,  six  to  ten  inches 
deep  and  a  number  of  feet  long,  in  several  di- 
rections. He  did  not  have  a  set  plan,  how  or 
where  he  would  dig,  but  determined  his  course 
by  the  conditions  he  found.  If  he  chanced  to 
find  a  tender  plant-root  he  followed  that  up  and 
dug  a  hall  to  his  underground  mansion  in  that 
direction.  If  it  were  a  stone  he  struck  he  would 
at  once  change  his  course  and  mine  a  more 
feasible  route.  His  favorite  surroundings  were 
loose  mellow  soils,  where  he  would  throw  the 
dirt  rapidly  over  his  smooth,  sleek  body,  as  he 
pushed  it  back  with  his  fore-paws,  this  being 
one  of  his  chief  sports  and  the  only  time  he 
ever  had  an  amiable  frame  of  mind  —  if  it  be 
just  to  apply  the  term  mind  to  his  slight  men- 
tal equipment. 

Off  from  the  main  channel  or  hall  he  dug  a 
room  some  three  feet  across  and  considerably 
deeper  than  the  other  avenues.  This  he  used 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

as  a  store-room  in  which  to  place  food  for  use 
when  the  ground  was  frozen  in  winter,  or  for 
an  emergency  when  he  might  not  be  fortunate 
in  his  daily  search  for  food.  One  of  his  worst 
failings  was  his  gluttonous  disposition.  On  dis- 
covering a  rare  delicacy  according  to  the  go- 
pher's cultivated  taste,  he  would  sit  and  eat  and 
eat  until  his  sides  fairly  stuck  out  and  his 
stomach  could  not  contain  another  mouthful. 
He  would  then  work  the  remainder  of  the 
night  cutting  the  tender  shoots,  roots,  or  tu- 
bers, whichever  it  chanced  to  be,  into  short  pieces 
about  an  inch  in  length.  In  the  most  serious, 
business-like  manner,  he  would  sit  up  with  his 
fore-paws  and  using  first  one  and  then  the 
other  he  would  place  the  pieces  cut  by  his 
broad,  long  and  sharp  front  teeth  into  the  pock- 
ets on  either  side  of  his  head.  It  was  from  these 
fur-lined  pockets,  or  pouches,  that  the  queer, 
solitary  little  animals  derived  their  name.  If  he 
found  a  particularly  choice  bit  of  food,  he  would 
fill  his  pockets  as  full  as  he  could  stuff  them, 
thus  distorting  the  shape  of  his  head,  and 
causing  him  to  look  very  queerly  as  he  scam- 
pered along  in  the  moonlight  to  his  burrow,  to 

[206] 


PRAIRIE  POCKET-GOPHERS 

put  away  in  his  store-room  the  contents  of  his 
pouches. 

In  the  course  of  time  a  number  of  these 
four-footed  miners  staked  their  claims  upon 
the  same  long  hillside  that  gradually  sloped  into 
a  broad,  level  stretch  of  prairie.  They  were 
solitary,  vicious  hermits  and  never  entered  one 
another's  homes,  or  in  any  way  exchanged 
friendly  greetings.  If  by  accident  they  chanced 
to  meet  their  only  recognition  was  to  angrily 
spring  at  each  other  and  bite.  If  unfortunately 
they  both  were  males,  there  at  once  ensued  a 
deadly  combat  in  which  one,  or  more  often  both 
of  them,  suffered  death. 

Each  hermit  stakes  his  or  her  underground 
claim  by  digging  a  tunnel  and  throwing  out  the 
dirt  in  low  mounds  on  the  surface  at  frequent 
intervals.  This  is  accomplished  by  the  little 
animal  loosening  the  dirt  with  his  nose.  At 
the  same  time  he  eats  any  roots  he  may  find 
pushing  their  way  through  the  earth  in  search 
of  nourishment  and  a  foundation  for  the  parent 
plant  above. 

It  is  only  for  roots  and  tubers  that  these  en- 
ergetic four-footed  hermits  mine.  As  fast  as 
[207] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

the  earth  is  loosened  along  the  tunnel  the  ani- 
mal shovels  it  back  with  his  long,  curved  fore- 
paws;  then  as  he  moves  along  over  the  dirt,  he 
pushes  it  back  again  for  some  distance  with  his 
powerful  and  muscular  hind-feet ;  when  a  small 
quantity  of  earth  has  been  pushed  behind  the 
miner  he  turns  about  and  joins  his  fore-paws 
before  his  nose,  forming  thus  a  kind  of  scoop. 
Then  by  pushing  himself  forward  with  his  hind- 
feet  he  shoves  the  dirt  before  him  out  of  the 
newly  made  hall  of  his  underground  home. 
Thus  he  carries  the  dirt  for  a  distance  of  three 
or  four  feet;  then  he  makes  a  new  opening 
through  which  he  throws  the  loose  dirt  so 
rapidly  excavated  from  his  tunnel.  In  this  way 
he  always  stakes  his  claim  with  fresh  hillocks, 
or  mounds,  as  he  mines  and  explores  new  un- 
derground regions. 

The  gopher  is  both  fearless  and  independent, 
never  seeming  to  care  whether  it  be  friend  or 
foe  who  knows  his  whereabouts.  The  little 
mounds  are  always  pushed  up  in  the  same  way 
without  any  attempt  to  disguise  their  freshness. 
If  he  is  met  above  ground  while  away  from 
home,  he  will  attack  any  animal  that  chances  to 
[208] 


If  by  accident  they  chanced  to  meet 
their  only  recognition  was  to  angri- 
ly spring  at  each  other  and  bite  " 


PRAIRIE  POCKET-GOPHERS 

cross  his  path,  even  man,  in  the  most  ferocious 
manner  and  often  without  the  least  provoca- 
tion. He  will  fight,  striking  and  inflicting  deep 
wounds  with  his  long,  sharp  teeth,  until  either 
he  kills  or  is  killed. 

These  savage  little  hermits  have  stout,  com- 
pact bodies  covered  with  thick,  soft,  silky  fur 
of  a  beautiful  rich  brown  color,  which  takes  on 
a  reddish  or  purplish  reflection  when  exposed 
to  the  sunshine.  The  feet  and  lower  lip  are 
covered  with  pure  white  hair.  The  tail  is  also 
white.  The  hairs  are  very  fine  and  lay  so 
closely  and  smoothly  together  that  they  repel 
the  dirt,  leaving  the  coat  of  the  animal,  who 
always  seeks  darkness  and  grovels  in  the  dirt, 
clean,  bright  and  glossy.  The  head  is  broad 
and  flat,  with  small  ears  and  little,  expressionless 
eyes.  The  fore-feet  have  long,  sharp  claws, 
with  stiff  bristles  growing  out  between  the  fin- 
gers to  prevent  the  dirt  from  slipping  through 
as  the  animal  digs  the  many  chambers  in  his 
underground  mansion.  These  prairie  pocket- 
gophers  are  neither  graceful,  intelligent  nor 
amiable  animals ;  but  what  can  be  expected  of  a 
creature  who  has  lived  in  solitude  and  darkness 

[211] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

for  generations,  with  but  one  ambition,  to  eat  and 
store  away  food  ?  They  never  give  or  receive  a 
kind  act  from  one  another,  never  have  their  na- 
tures softened  by  true  friendship  or  loving  com- 
panions. Their  eyes  as  well  as  their  natures 
are  small  and  weak.  Gophers  seek  nothing 
but  the  underground  halls  and  galleries  running 
in  all  directions,  except  it  be  the  stores  of  food, 
packed  away  in  the  large  chambers  which  they 
excavate  for  that  purpose  and  which  are  generally 
more  than  they  can  possibly  use.  They  shun 
the  sunlight  in  which  so  many  of  their  prairie 
neighbors  bask  and  thoroughly  enjoy.  They 
seek  the  darkest  recesses  of  their  homes  for 
rest  and  repose  and  work  diligently  to  exclude 
any  stray  ray  of  light  that  might  by  accident 
enter  one  of  their  halls.  Gloomy,  solitary  and 
vicious,  this  underground  dweller  and  lover  of 
darkness  spends  his  life  and  fills  his  mission  in 
fertilizing  the  more  or  less  barren  hillsides  of 
the  prairie,  changing  in  some  slight  degree  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  through  the  action  of 
the  rain  upon  their  discarded  homes.  In 
time  they  often  cause  deep  ruts  and  gullies 
and  in  many  ways  are  both  a  hindrance  as 


PRAIRIE  POCKET- GOPHERS 

well  as  a  benefit  to  the  farmer  in  his  westward 
progress. 

The  gopher  feels  himself  quite  secure  in  his 
dark,  cheerless  home,  in  spite  of  his  solitary 
method  of  living  and  his  precaution  to  always 
cover  all  entrances  to  his  underground  house; 
and  this,  by  the  way,  is  more  to  keep  out  the 
sunlight  than  to  exclude  enemies.  He  has  two 
natural  enemies  who  break  through  his  walls, 
seek  him  and  capture  him  in  his  own  dungeon. 
One  of  these  is  the  weasel  and  the  other  the 
bull-snake.  Both  of  these  enemies  are  accus- 
tomed to  the  underground  world  and  to  homes 
of  darkness.  The  wiry  little  weasel,  with  its 
long,  slender  body,  enters  the  last  wall  or  bur- 
row of  the  hermit,  then  glides  along  quietly 
until  it  reaches  and  surprises  the  solitary  occu- 
pant in  his  cold,  dark  chamber.  It  soon  sucks 
the  life-blood  of  the  pugnacious  miner,  who 
thus  taken  at  a  disadvantage,  is  unable  to  de- 
fend and  save  himself.  In  such  a  case  there 
are  no  more  new  galleries  or  fresh  mounds 
thrown  up  by  the  late  occupant  of  that  special 
claim,  during  that  night  or  ever  after.  There 
are  no  companions  or  loved  ones  to  tell  of  his 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

struggle  or  tragic  end.  Not  even  his  own  off- 
spring remain,  for  each  has  selfishly  left  the 
parental  home  at  a  very  early  age  and  entered 
upon  his  own  solitary  life.  So  the  gopher 
leaves  none  to  mourn  or  to  miss  him.  He  has 
filled  his  mission  on  earth  and  accomplished 
the  only  work  that  a  gopher  could  do. 

If  it  chanced  to  be  his  other  enemy,  the  bull- 
snake  would  glide  with  his  cold,  muscular  body 
along  the  unfortunate  gopher's  chamber  and 
capturing,  squeeze  him  to  death  and  swallow 
him  entire. 

When  the  gopher  thrusts  his  head  above 
ground,  there  are  other  natural  enemies  who  sit 
and  wait  to  devour  him.  Among  them  are  the 
fox  and  coyote  who  seize  many  a  luckless  one 
as  he  pushes  up  his  load  of  dirt  and  by  chance 
stops  for  a  moment  to  rest  with  his  head  above 
ground.  The  cunning  fox  or  coyote,  knowing 
the  gopher's  habits,  will  sit  at  eventide  at  the 
entrance  of  the  newly  formed  hillocks  and  wait 
for  the  unsuspecting  occupant  to  come  forth 
with  its  load  of  dirt,  when  it  is  instantly  caught, 
pulled  above  ground  and  soon  hangs  dangling 
limp  and  lifeless  between  the  jaws  of  its  enemy. 


PRAIRIE  POCKET- GOPHERS 

Woe  be  to  the  inexperienced  young  fox  or 
coyote  who  would  grasp  the  animal  anywhere 
save  by  the  back  of  its  neck,  as  he  would  then 
give  the  vicious  little  gopher  an  opportunity  to 
use  his  long,  cruel  teeth !  The  story  would  in 
such  a  case  have  quite  a  different  ending;  the 
fox  or  coyote  dropping  his  prey  and  retreating 
with  howls  from  painful  wounds,  instead  of  trot- 
ting off  triumphantly,  with  a  tender,  juicy  sup- 
per dangling  from  its  mouth.  Two  other 
enemies  the  gophers  have  to  fear,  and  these 
are  our  feathered  friends,  the  owl  and  the  hawk. 
The  owls  in  particular,  being  night-prowlers, 
bring  many  an  unfortunate  gopher  to  an  un- 
timely end. 

In  the  course  of  years  a  frontiersman  came 
and  staked  off  his  claim  or  homestead,  which  took 
in  the  hill"  and  level  stretch  of  prairie  that  was 
occupied  by  the  gophers.  As  soon  as  the 
farmer  was  settled  in  his  dugout,  he  began 
gradually  to  turn  the  prairie  into  ploughed 
land;  to  plant  vegetables  and  trees;  to  sow  his 
fields  of  grain.  The  first  year  he  planted  a 
portion  of  newly  broken  sod  with  watermelons ; 
and  another  strip  with  corn,  cucumbers,  and 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

pumpkins.  The  plainsman  wondered  that  so 
many  of  the  hills  of  corn  failed  to  take  root  and 
grow.  He  also  noticed  the  increasing  number 
of  gopher  hills  but  gave  little  thought  that 
they  would  seriously  damage  his  crops.  The 
gophers  were  quick  to  take  advantage  of  the 
new  conditions  that  arose  on  the  border  of  their 
claims.  They  soon  mined  along  and  discovered 
the  grains  of  corn  in  many  a  corn-hill.  In  the 
fall  much  was  made  clear  to  the  unsophisticated 
farmer  and  vengeance  was  sworn  against  the 
luckless  gophers  of  his  locality.  They  had 
lived  in  luxury  from  a  gopher's  point  of  view 
and  flourished  with  comparatively  few  attacks, 
even  from  their  natural  enemies.  With  their 
greed  for  more  riches  in  the  way  of  good 
things  to  eat  and  greater  stores  to  pack  away 
only  to  rot  and  waste,  they  had  trespassed  upon 
the  rights  of  the  farmer  and  thus  encountered 
greater  danger  to  life;  dangers  and  struggles 
they  had  never  before  known. 

When  the  farmer  undertook,  in  the  fall,  to 

gather  his  crop  of  water-melons  over  one  half  of 

the  melons  were  found  eaten  from  the  under  side 

by  his  damaging  little  neighbors.    The  only  way 

[216] 


PRAIRIE  POCKET- GOPHERS 

these  little  animals  are  known  to  take  water  into 
their  systems  is  through  the  juices  in  the  vege- 
tables which  they  eat.  For  this  reason  the 
watermelons  were  a  great  delicacy  and  the  greedy 
little  hermits  did  all  in  their  power  to  uncon- 
sciously destroy  as  many  melons  as  possible. 
The  pumpkins  shared  the  same  fate  and  bits 
of  cucumbers  were  found  scattered  upon  the 
ground  where  these  selfish,  energetic  little  brutes 
had  cut  them  into  small  pieces  to  place  them  in 
their  cheek-pockets  that  they  might  be  carried 
away  to  their  store-houses. 

The  pioneer  gopher  of  the  hillside  had  now 
grown  old  and  gray.  His  teeth  were  not  as 
strong  nor  as  sharp  as  they  used  to  be.  His 
little  eyes,  that  never  were  very  good,  left  him 
almost  totally  blind  in  his  old  days.  Still  age 
and  experience,  with  his  natural  instinct,  helped 
him  to  keep  out  of  the  reach  of  his  enemies  and 
the  farmer's  traps  that  were  destroying  so  many 
of  his  kind.  The  ground  made  loose  by  the 
farmer's  plough  was  easy  to  dig  and  he  found 
many  luxuries  which  he  had  never  tasted  before. 

The  feeble  old  gopher,  perhaps  through  force 
of  habit,  or  because  he  was  old  and  could  not 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

accustom  himself  to  the  new  surroundings  and 
the  ways  of  the  younger  of  his  kind,  remained 
on  his  long  occupied  claim  on  the  border  of  the 
field.  Many  a  time  he  had  thrown  up  the  dirt 
while  mining  his  winding  halls  and  had  covered 
up  the  vegetation  over  a  goodly  part  of  his  do- 
main. Often  in  the  fall,  as  the  hot  prairie  fires 
swept  by,  mercilessly  licking  up  everything  along 
their  way,  the  only  vegetation  left  to  enrich  the 
soil  was  that  covered  by  the  hermit  miner.  As 
new  vegetation  sprung  from  that  which  was 
buried  the  faithful  little  fellow  mined  it  all  over 
again  ;  and  thus  he  toiled  year  after  year.  In 
this  way  and  by  his  greedy  nature  of  storing 
away  all  he  could  not  eat,  much  vegetation  was 
converted  into  fertilizing  substances  and  the  soil 
was  made  into  the  productive  condition  in  which 
the  frontiersman  had  found  it. 

The  following  spring  the  farmer  broke  up 
the  strip  of  prairie  upon  which  the  old  gopher 
had  made  his  home  and  in  nature's  way  had 
ploughed  and  reploughed  the  soil  so  many 
times.  Thus  the  feeble  old  gopher  was  turned 
out  of  his  life-long  home  by  the  cold  share  of 
the  farmer's  plough  in  return  for  the  faithful 


PRAIRIE  POCKET-GOPHERS 

and  valuable  service  he  had  rendered.  The  ani- 
mal who  had  never  shown  mercy  or  had  sympathy 
for  others  received  none  at  last  for  himself! 

The  farmer's  plough  had  unearthed  a  gopher's 
nest  containing  two  little  ones  about  a  week  old. 
They  were  perfectly  helpless.  Their  eyes  and 
ears  were  tightly  closed  and  they  lay  on  a  small 
round  bed  of  soft  grass  and  vegetable  fibres. 
They  were  pretty  little  things  of  a  translucent, 
pinkish-white  color.  Their  heads  were  round  and 
their  little  fat  front  paws  and  fingers  gave  them 
somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  little  human  baby. 
The  farmer  undertook  to  raise  them,  but  they 
were  too  young  and  the  effort  failed.  The  young 
attain  their  full  growth  by  fall  and  are  then  per- 
fectly accomplished  in  the  art  of  gopher  mining. 

The  farmer  maintained  a  constant  war  with 
his  four-footed  miner  neighbors,  but  they  held 
their  own  for  a  long  while.  They  ate  his  po- 
tatoes and  other  tuberous  vegetables  and  ruth- 
lessly helped  themselves  annually  to  his  water- 
melons. But  the  most  unbearable  and  disap- 
pointing damage  they  did  was  to  completely 
gnaw  off  the  roots  of  the  apple,  cherry  and 
peach  trees  he  had  set  out  and  whose  growth 
[219] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

he  was  watching  with  pleasure  and  pride.  An 
orchard  was  a  luxury  at  that  time  not  known 
on  the  western  plains.  He  noticed  the  trees 
were  drooping  but  did  not  guess  the  true  cause 
until  a  heavy  wind  had  laid  them  all  flat  on  the 
ground.  From  that  time  he  worked  with  a 
vengeance  to  destroy  the  lives  of  the  once  harm- 
less and  useful  little  animals. 

There  is  an  old  Indian  legend  concerning  the 
gophers  that  runs  as  follows:  "Bright-Moon 
was  an  old  Indian  medicine-man.  He  tramped 
the  prairie  over  in  search  of  herbs  and  roots  to 
use  in  those  great  remedies  that  drove  the  evil 
spirits  of  disease  from  his  chosen  people.  Long 
he  had  hunted  for  some  roots  that  were  highly 
prized  by  his  ancestors.  At  last  when  he  was 
gray,  wrinkled  and  bent  with  age  he  found  the 
long  sought  roots  on  a  hillside  where  two  gophers 
had  their  home.  The  gophers  had  beautiful, 
large  bright  eyes  and  lived  much  in  the  sun- 
shine. The  roots  so  highly  prized  by  Bright- 
Moon  the  gophers  seemed  to  delight  in  de- 
stroying. Those  they  could  not  eat  they  cut 
up  and  stored  away.  Bright-Moon  remon- 
strated with  them.  He  told  them  the  roots 

[2,0] 


PRAIRIE  POCKET- GOPHERS 

were  sacred  medicine  given  by  the  Great  Spirit, 
the  Sun ;  but  the  gophers  were  selfish  and 
jealous  of  Red-face,  as  they  called  the  good,  wise, 
aged  Bright-Moon.  They  said,  cthe  roots 
grow  around  our  home  and  not  yours,  Red-face, 
and  we  will  do  as  we  please  with  them/  Bright- 
Moon  left  with  a  sad  heart.  When  the  sun 
was  long  hidden  behind  the  great  hills  in  the 
west  the  two  gophers  called  all  their  kind  to- 
gether and  destroyed  all  the  roots  they  could 
find.  When  Bright-Moon  returned  and  found 
what  the  selfish  gophers  had  done  he  was  very 
angry.  When  the  gophers  saw  his  great  anger 
they  trembled  and  showed  their  teeth  and  bit  at 
the  ones  who  had  tempted  them  to  commit  this 
destruction.  Then  Bright-Moon  rose  before 
them  and  called  to  the  Great  Spirit,  the  Sun,  to 
revenge  his  wrong.  The  sun  poured  out  great 
streaks  of  fire  that  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the 
gophers  and  made  them  grow  weak  and  small. 
Then  he  commanded  them  to  seek  the  ground 
and  live  in  solitude  and  darkness.  From  that 
day  on  the  gophers  have  been  solitary,  vicious 
underground  dwellers,  shunning  light  and  com- 
panionship." 

[221] 


FIELD  MICE 

AMONG  the  most  pleasant  and  helpful 
memories  of  my  childhood  are  the 
thoughts  gained  from  association  with  a 
dear,  little  eastern  lady.  She  was  a  distant  relative 
of  my  mother.  During  a  tour  of  the  great  west, 
fortunately  for  me,  she  spent  a  summer  and  fall  at 
our  humble  plains  home.  When  a  young  woman 
she  had  not  been  what  is  commonly  regarded 
as  good-looking;  but  as  time  passed  such  was 
the  love  and  harmony  of  her  life  that  she  came 
to  be  a  very  beautiful  old  lady.  And  most 
marked  of  all  she  had  that  greater,  more  po- 
tent beauty  of  character.  It  was  during  the 
later  years  of  her  life  that  she  made  us  the  mem- 
orable visit  and  by  her  sweet  influence,  of  which 
I  was  at  that  time  quite  unconscious,  rolled  into 
my  life  some  of  the  foundation-stones  of  unde- 


FIELD  MICE 

veloped  thought  that  have  since  aided  me  to 
surmount  many  a  difficulty  and  to  pass  safely 
over  many  a  rough  place  in  the  path  of  my 
own  life's  experience.  "Aunt,"  as  I  was  accus- 
tomed to  address  our  noble  guest,  entered  into 
all  my  childish  pleasures  and  at  once  seemed  to 
love  and  to  understand  my  animal  pets  quite  as 
well  as  I  did  myself. 

One  fall  evening,  just  at  sunset's  hour,  we 
were  walking  through  a  meadow  with  Mongola, 
my  pet  skunk  trotting  along  between  us  or  run- 
ning along  in  the  lead  in  his  dainty  mincing 
way,  his  beautiful  pompon-like  tail  gracefully 
sweeping  the  ground.  Occasionally  he  would 
stop  and  with  his  tail  held  high  above  his  back 
walk  up  to  me,  then  stand  on  his  hind  legs  and 
scratch  at  the  hem  of  my  skirt  and  look  at  me 
with  the  most  pleading  expression  possible  in 
his  little  black  eyes.  This  was  his  way  of  say- 
ing "  I  am  tired  and  I  want  you  to  carry  me ! " 
I  would  take  him  up  and  place  him  on  my 
shoulder  where  he  would  proudly  sit  while  I 
carried  him  safely  over  the  rough  places  or 
through  the  tall  grass.  The  very  human  ways 
of  my  pet  pleased  and  amused  Aunt  very 
["3] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

greatly.  Whenever  we  came  to  a  place  where 
the  grass  was  very  fine  and  thick  we  sauntered 
along  more  slowly.  These  were  the  favored 
places  of  nature,  the  green  spots  that  offered 
protection  to  small  beast  and  smaller  bird  and 
which,  also,  gave  nourishment  to  their  larger 
vegetarian  neighbors.  Aunt  told  me  of  the 
economic  laws  of  nature,  those  wonderful  laws 
which  govern  and  aid  growth.  It  all  seemed  so 
great  and  so  beautiful !  I  felt  very  much  more 
than  my  young  mind  was  able  to  define ;  in  a  cer- 
tain way  only  did  I  comprehend.  While  we 
walked  the  grass  became  wet  with  dew;  and  even 
in  this  my  elderly  companion  saw  a  lesson.  She 
told  me  that  the  dew  was  bathing  the  myriads  of 
parched  lips  of  the  grass  blades,  that  the  plants 
had  been  losing  moisture  in  the  intense  heat  of 
the  sun's  rays  during  the  day,  and  that,  though 
this  was  so,  the  plants  had  been  borrowing  from 
mother  earth  the  substances  which  she  deftly, 
by  some  secret  chemistry,  wove  into  wonderful 
living  structures  which  her  vegetarian  depen- 
dents needed  for  their  development.  "  Each  of 
nature's  great  gifts  entwine  with  each  other/' 
she  said.  "  Each  lends  to  the  other  and  often 
["4] 


FIELD  MICE 

during  the  process  lose  entirely  their  own  iden- 
tity. In  this  way  the  dead  and  inert  become 
alive.  Atoms  travel  from  lifeless  to  living  bod- 
ies and  back  again  to  lifeless  forms ;  and  so  they 
give  and  borrow ;  are  alive  or  are  dead,  just  as 
the  wonderful  processes  of  nature  seem  to  de- 
mand." Aunt  tried  to  make  me  understand 
that  there  was  a  life  lesson  here.  "  If  the  great 
leaders  of  affairs,"  she  said,  "would  only  live 
nearer  to  the  powerful  and  simple  laws  of  nature 
and  thus  work  together  for  the  common  good 
of  all  instead  of  individual  fame  and  gain  how 
much  more  rapidly  and  smoothly  would  all  the 
difficult  problems  of  our  national  life  evolution- 
ize." 

Mongola  not  understanding  or  being  able 
to  enjoy  any  of  the  wonderful  thoughts  Aunt 
was  unfolding  to  me  did  his  part,  however,  by 
living  his  own  life  and  following  his  natural  in-, 
stincts.  While  we  were  using  our  minds  my 
pet  had  been  using  his  sharp  little  eyes  and  his 
well  developed  sense  of  smell.  The  grass 
moved  so  slightly  we  did  not  notice  it  but  the 
skunk  did  and  understood  what  it  meant.  He 
aroused  me  from  this  train  of  thought  as  his 
["5] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

sharp  claws  scratched  my  arm  when  he  endea- 
vored to  noiselessly  climb  down  from  my  shoul- 
der. On  reaching  the  ground,  which  he  did  in 
a  half  tumble,  he  put  his  pointed  nose  to  the 
surface  and  sniffed  about  in  an  interested  man- 
ner. I  knew  he  had  scented  some  other  animal. 
As  he  ran  along  he  pushed  the  grass  aside 
showing  many  tiny,  well  trodden  paths  crossing 
and  recrossing  one  another  until  they  formed  a 
net-work  of  avenues  and  tiny  streets,  shaded  by 
the  grass  and  the  brown  arches  of  the  over- 
hanging plants  that  had  been  left  by  the  sharp 
teeth  of  the  interesting  little  road-makers. 
Aunt  told  me  they  were  the  runways  of  a  fam- 
ily of  field  mice.  Presently  Mongola  stopped 
and  began  to  dig  into  the  ground.  He  had 
discovered  the  entrance  to  one  of  the  tun- 
nels and  it  led  to  the  underground  home  and 
storehouses  of  the  dainty  little  creatures.  The 
skunk  with  his  long  claws  laid  open  first  one 
tunnel  and  then  another  for  there  were  quite  as 
many  tunnels  and  entrances  as  there  were  streets 
and  avenues  in  their  surface  system  of  engineer- 
ing. They  were,  however,  somewhat  more 
complicated  and  the  entrance  to  the  nest  and 


" Aunt  told  me  they  were  the  run- 
ways -of  a  family  of  field-mice  " 


FIELD  MICE 

store-room  is  always  closed  when  the  wise  little 
owner  travels  abroad.  During  all  the  work  of 
destruction  on  the  part  of  Mongola  nothing 
was  seen  of  the  owners  of  this  mysterious,  wind- 
ing, underground  mansion.  We  had  about 
concluded  that  the  home  had  been  deserted 
when  our  little  companion  dug  into  a  chamber 
larger  than  the  others  and  disclosed  something 
new.  In  the  center  lay  a  round  ball  of  soft 
grass.  In  an  instant  the  skunk  had  sprung 
forward  and  seized  it  in  his  mouth.  As  he  did 
so  the  tiniest  little  gray  thing  sprang  from  the 
meshes  of  the  ball  and  dashed  off  through  the 
grass.  Mongola  dropped  the  nest  and  in  one 
leap  caught  the  dainty  little  mother-mouse  be- 
tween his  paws  and  then  savagely  tore  it  to 
pieces  with  his  sharp  teeth  before  our  astonished 
eyes.  It  was  done  so  quickly  that  had  we  been 
alive  to  the  situation  and  tried  to  save  the  tiny 
thing  it  would  have  been  impossible.  The  little 
life  had  been  sacrificed  to  the  needs  of  another 
animal,  stronger  and  its  natural  enemy.  Before 
we  realized  what  the  skunk  was  about  he  had 
again  taken  possession  of  the  grass  nest  and  had 
torn  it  apart.  Out  rolled  six  little  balls  of  fur 
[229] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

scarcely  as  large  as  a  thimble.  They  were 
quickly  swallowed  by  the  greedy  Mongola. 
Not  yet  content  he  sniffed  about  for  some  time 
but  at  last  gave  up  further  search.  In  a  most 
satisfied  manner  he  sat  up,  wiped  his  mouth  with 
his  paws  for  a  napkin  and  finally  washed  them 
with  his  tongue,  arranged  the  fur  about  his  face 
to  complete  satisfaction,  walked  over  to  me  with 
his  tail  held  up  in  a  proud  manner  and  gave 
several  little  grunts.  Whether  he  was  seeking 
praise,  I  know  not,  but  it  was  censure  that  he 
received.  Aunt  said  I  should  not  be  grieved 
nor  scold  my  pet  for  it  was  natural  and  right 
that  he  should  feed  upon  mice.  If  they  are 
not  kept  in  check  by  their  natural  enemies  they 
so  increase  that  they  do  great  damage  to  crops 
and  to  young  orchards. 

The  wise  little  field  mice  seem  to  be  fully 
aware  of  their  constant  danger  from  many 
enemies.  They  seldom  come  out  in  the  open 
and  usually  lie  concealed  in  their  underground 
homes  until  twilight.  Then  they  venture  out 
for  food  or  to  make  a  friendly  visit  to  a  neigh- 
bor. 'These  trips  are  all  taken  with  the  great- 
est precaution,  for  not  only  do  their  modest 


FIELD  MICE 

gray  coats  serve  to  hide  their  movements  in  the 
somber  shades  of  night  but  they  closely  resem- 
ble the  dead  and  dried  vegetation  about  them. 
Then,  too,  their  runways  are  concealed  beneath 
grass,  leaves,  fallen  trees  or  logs.  With  them 
it  is  one  continual  problem  of  concealment  and 
this  environment  and  instinct  both  help  to  se- 
cure. 

Notwithstanding  all  this  care  and  the  aid 
nature  has  given  in  protective  coloration  and 
habits  of  concealment  they  often  do  not  avail. 
Many  a  hungry  mink,  or  weasel,  or  badger,  or 
skunk,  or  snake,  besides  a  number  of  birds  of 
prey,  like  hawks  and  owls,  daily  destroy  large 
numbers  of  these  timid  little  animals.  While 
Aunt  was  telling  me  of  their  interesting  ways 
and  of  their  big,  hungry  enemies  my  sympathy 
was  aroused  for  the  little  hunted  things.  How  I 
longed  to  be  able  to  protect  them  from  all  their 
enemies.  They  seemed  so  delicate  and  harmless ! 
As  I  stood  looking  at  the  many  little  runways  I 
pictured  them,  in  my  childish  fancy,  as  peopled 
with  tiny,  gray  living  objects,  that  went  about 
unmolested  and  without  fear,  that  lived  and 
moved  in  perfect  freedom  and  so  were  happy. 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

"  For,"  thought  I,  "  if  happiness  and  freedom 
cannot  be  found  in  nature  it  certainly  cannot 
exist."  But  my  desire  to  protect  and  help  the 
little  vagabonds,  as  I  afterward  learned  them  to 
be,  was  but  a  foolish  impulse  of  a  tender,  sym- 
pathetic, child  mind.  But,  after  all,  it  was  far 
more  noble  and  quite  as  sensible  as  the  impulse 
which  the  man  of  matured  mind  follows  too 
often  in  destroying  ruthlessly  and  mercilessly 
his  furred  and  feathered  friends.  The  history 
of  the  buffalo,  the  big-horn,  the  antelope,  the 
otter  and  the  prairie-hen  show  well  the  short- 
sighted selfishness  of  the  man  who  thus  inter- 
feres with  nature's  ways ;  he  is  rapidly  destroy- 
ing the  makers  of  all  four-footed  trails  ! 

Field  mice  breed  at  short  intervals  during  the 
entire  year,  each  litter  having  from  four  to  eight 
young.  From  this  fact  their  numbers  increase 
very  rapidly.  Their  food  is  mainly  vegetable, 
though  they  destroy  many  insects  and  small 
mollusks,  and  with  plants  they  act  as  laborato- 
ries converting  the  vegetable  into  the  animal  — 
nature's  way  of  supplying  many  carnivorous  de- 
pendents with  food.  Nevertheless,  though  this  is 
their  destiny,  they  still  seem  to  maintain  a  footing 


FIELD  MICE 

in  the  balance  of  animal  life.  They  are  of  no 
direct  use  to  man  and  so,  in  his  ignorance  of 
nature's  laws,  through  which  he  has  time  and 
again  decimated  the  useful  of  the  animal  world, 
many  of  which  consume  these  small  rodents  as 
food,  they  have  been  more  than  able  to  hold  their 
own  in  the  great  struggle  for  existence.  Some 
of  them  take  only  a  small  fee  for  valuable  ser- 
vices ;  the  grain  they  destroy  is  by  no  means  an 
equivalent  for  the  insects  they  exterminate.  But 
like  selfish  little  thoughts  and  acts,  quietly 
multiplied,  the  seemingly  harmless  mice  may  do 
great  injury.  Each  took,  to  be  sure,  but  a  tiny 
mouthful  of  grain,  or  a  kernel  or  two  of  corn, 
or  nibbled  off  but  a  few  spears  of  wheat  or 
timothy  at  a  time,  but  they  came  often  and 
there  were  many  of  them.  So  in  the  end  they 
made  their  presence  and  power  felt.  They  soon 
laid  waste  the  entire  field.  The  foolish  farmer, 
with  all  his  skill  and  his  traps  and  his  poisons, 
could  not  replace  nature's  check.  Aunt  de- 
clared that  "  if  we  allow  thoughts  of  spite  and 
of  revenge  to  creep  into  our  minds  and  influ- 
ence our  lives  ever  so  little  we  interfere  with 
nature's  most  powerful  laws  of  love  and  har- 
l>33] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

mony."  Like  the  work  of  the  little  mice  in 
the  field  these  thoughts  will  soon  destroy  all 
the  grandeur  and  power  and  beauty  of  life. 
And  she  was  right ! 

While  Aunt  was  talking  we  examined  the 
destroyed  nest  and  found  it  to  be  most  inter- 
esting and  beautiful.  It  was  an  architectural 
wonder,  in  view  of  its  origin.  It  was  composed 
of  fine  grasses  so  interwoven  as  to  form  a  hol- 
low globe.  The  walls  were  thin  and  elastic 
and  lined  inside  with  plant  down  and  soft  fibers. 
How  long  and  patiently  the  little  mother  and 
her  mate  must  have  toiled  to  weave  the  soft 
cozy  nest  and  to  dig  those  wondrously  intricate 
galleries  !  And  what  of  their  end  ?  To  be  torn 
to  pieces  by  a  huge,  unappreciative  enemy ! 
Aye  !  More  !  To  surrender  a  life  !  Truly, 
the  philosophy  of  nature  is  a  harsh  one,  from 
some  standpoints.  We  now  carefully  opened 
many  of  the  remaining  galleries  and  found  sev- 
eral chambers  or  rooms  in  which  were  stored 
away  little  piles  of  carefully  selected  wheat  ker- 
nels gathered  from  the  neighboring  wheat-field. 
A  single  chamber  was  filled  with  sun-flower 
seeds,  a  part  of  the  winter's  store  which  the 
[234] 


FIELD  MICE 

provident  little  creatures  were  laying  away. 
Altogether  the  wise,  little,  energetic  miners  had 
several  quarts  of  food  put  aside  for  future  use. 

Then  began  our  walk  home,  which  was  not 
without  its  instructive  incidents.  Nearer  the 
wheat-field,  where  food  was  most  abundant,  the 
runways  were  very  numerous  and  in  them  were 
many  of  the  little  mice  homes.  An  accident 
felled  me  to  the  ground  and  there,  right  in  front 
of  me  was  still  another  lesson.  A  deserted 
bird's  nest  was  occupied  by  a  family  of  little 
mice  all  of  whom  scampered  out  when  I  so  un- 
wittingly disturbed  them.  These  little  creatures 
are  very  cleanly  and  frequently  make  new  nests 
to  replace  those  that  are  imperfect,  or  old,  or 
get  very  dirty. 

A  short  time  after  this  pleasant  and  instruc- 
tive walk  I  caught  a  pair  of  little  gray  mice  in  a 
trap  which  I  placed  at  the  base  of  a  stack  of 
wheat.  There  are  a  number  of  kinds  of  field 
or  meadow  mice  and  they  vary  in  color  from 
gray  to  a  rich  chestnut  brown,  while  the  fur  of 
some  is  sprinkled  with  black  hairs  that  are 
longer  and  coarser.  The  field  mice  which  I 
knew  on  the  plains  are  not  as  large  nor  as  plen- 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

tiful  as  many  others  of  their  relatives  that  live 
throughout  the  fields  and  prairies  of  North 
America. 

The  captured  mice  I  placed  in  a  box  made 
especially  for  them,  the  bottom  being  lined  with 
tin  and  the  sides  and  top  made  of  wire  netting. 
They  were  given  a  plentiful  supply  of  dirt,  a 
few  pieces  of  bark  and  a  small  bunch  of  grass 
and  leaves.  They  turned  out  to  be  very  active 
creatures,  seldom  being  quiet  except  when  eat- 
ing, or  sitting  up  washing  their  faces  or  hands, 
or  when  asleep.  Many  of  these  delicate  little 
animals  die  from  fright  when  in  captivity.  But 
the  two  dainty  little  ones  whom  fate  decreed 
should  walk  into  my  trap  were  of  a  more  prac- 
tical frame  of  mind.  They  at  once  explored 
every  portion  of  the  inclosure  running  up  the 
sides,  or  along  the  top,  grasping  the  meshes 
with  their  delicate,  slender,  pink  toes.  Then 
they  darted  down  and  scampered  under  the 
grass  and  leaves  that  formed  a  mass  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  box.  The  male  was  a  trifle  larger 
than  his  mate  and  his  black  whiskers  were  longer. 
He  seemed  to  move  in  such  a  serious  way  and 
to  direct  the  mouse-doings  of  their  new  home ; 


FIELD  MICE 

at  any  rate  it  so  seemed  to  Aunt  and  I,  where- 
fore we  named  him  "  Deacon,"  and  his  little 
mate,  because  of  her  soft  gray  garb,  we  called 
"  Quaker."  Both  were  very  cunning  little  ob- 
jects, their  bodies  being  scarcely  two  and  a  half 
inches  in  length  and  their  tails  were  nearly  as 
long  as  their  bodies.  Their  heads  were  large, 
with  tiny  bead-like,  black  eyes,  little  rounded 
ears  and  graceful  black  whiskers.  The  under 
parts  were  shaded  into  a  pinkish  white  and  their 
dainty  little  feet  were  pink  on  the  under  side. 

Most  of  my  leisure  moments  for  some  time 
after  these  dear  little  pets  came  into  my  posses- 
sion were  spent  in  an  endeavor  to  get  acquainted 
with  their  mysterious  and  cunning  habits.  I 
often  aroused  them  from  their  midday  nap  in 
my  eagerness  to  learn  whether  they  were  still 
alive  and  all  right.  Deacon  and  Quaker  soon 
grew  accustomed  to  their  new  home.  They 
finally  set  to  work  and  began  tearing  the  grass 
and  leaves  into  fine  strips  ;  then  they  wove  them 
into  a  rounded,  somewhat  compressed  form,  with 
an  open  space  in  the  center  and  with  two  small 
openings  to  the  outside.  In  this  soft  and  won- 
derfully constructed  bed  they  would  while  away 
[»37] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

the  hours  in  sleep  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
day.  It  was  an  interesting  sight  to  watch  them 
mine  the  tunnels  in  the  dirt  of  the  cage.  They 
threw  the  dirt  rapidly  behind  them,  for  a  sur- 
prisingly long  distance,  using  their  fore  feet  for 
digging  and  the  hind  feet  for  throwing  the  dirt 
away.  If  in  their  operations  they  came  across 
any  obstacle  they  would  loosen  the  dirt  with 
their  teeth  and  push  it  aside  with  their  noses. 
One  day  I  observed  Deacon  lying  on  his  back 
and  digging  overhead  with  all  his  might.  When 
he  had  loosened  a  quantity  of  dirt  he  backed 
out  shoving  the  soil  before  him.  No  matter 
whether  these  little  pets  of  mine  were  groveling 
in  the  dirt,  weaving  their  nests,  running  about, 
sitting  up  and  daintily  nibbling  a  kernel  of  wheat 
or  corn,  or  making  their  toilet,  they  always  pre- 
sented the  same  clean  appearance.  Each  hair 
seemed  to  lay  exactly  in  the  right  place  ;  their 
coats  were  always  smooth  and  glossy. 

I  firmly  fastened  a  small  tree-branch  in  the 
center  of  the  cage.  This  afforded  the  little 
creatures  very  great  pleasure  and  they  would 
crawl  up  its  trunk  and  out  on  the  slender 
branches  which  would  bend  with  their  weight 


FIELD  MICE 

almost  to  the  ground.  On  these  occasions  they 
used  their  long  tails  to  aid  them  in  climbing  by 
giving  them  balance  and  also  to  twist  about  the 
slender  twigs.  Whenever  I  placed  flies  and  cock- 
roaches in  their  cage  they  played  a  regular  game 
of  hide  and  seek,  or  real  tag,  with  the  unfortu- 
nate insects  until  all  were  caught  and  devoured. 
One  day,  shortly  before  Mongola  met  his 
death,  Aunt  and  I  found  him  standing  upon 
his  hind  legs  peering  through  the  fine  wire 
meshes  with  a  longing  hungry  look  in  his  bright 
eyes.  Within  were  the  two  little  trembling 
mice.  Deacon  was  perched  on  a  twig  and  grasp- 
ing it  very  tightly.  His  whiskers  stood  out 
straight  from  his  face,  and  stiffly,  and  his  little 
eyes  fairly  bulged  with  fright.  Down  below 
him,  backed  against  a  mound  of  dirt,  sat  Quaker 
in  an  attitude  of  abject  fear.  As  Mongola 
uttered  low,  short  grunts  and  moved  about  in 
front  of  the  cage  the  trembling  little  mice  fol- 
lowed him  warily  with  their  eyes.  But  Mon- 
gola was  not  to  end  their  lives  in  his  usual  way! 
It  turned  out  that  this  was  the  last  time  that 
the  unfortunate  skunk  even  so  much  as  feasted 
his  eyes  on  the  mice. 

[239] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

The  mice  had  mined  and  remined  the  earth 
of  their  home  time  and  time  again.  They 
seemed  at  last  to  be  satisfied  with  their  under- 
ground dwelling.  The  grain  and  corn  which 
had  been  placed  in  their  cage  was  carried  in 
their  cheeks  to  their  storehouses.  They  now 
turned  their  energetic  little  minds  to  tearing 
apart  the  first-made  nest  and  proceeded  to 
reconstruct  it.  This  they  did  in  a  large  under- 
ground chamber  which  they  had  excavated  for 
that  purpose.  A  few  feathers  and  a  tuft  of  wool 
which  I  had  placed  in  the  cage  were  the  only 
novel  additions  to  the  materials  employed.  The 
real  character  of  this  nest  became  apparent  later. 
I  had  not  seen  Quaker  for  several  days.  I 
feared  she  was  dead  or  ill  and  opened  the  tun- 
nel to  learn  her  fate.  I  found  the  new  made 
nest  and  in  it  were  four  tiny  pink  forms,  not 
much  larger  than  a  lima  bean.  I  never  knew 
Quaker  to  be  other  than  timid  and  retiring  and 
her  demeanor  to  be  gentle.  But  how  changed  ! 
Now  she  was  a  veritable  little  savage.  The 
mother-spirit  had  been  kindled  within  her  breast 
and  she  was  a  perfect  little  demon  in  the  defense 
of  her  helpless  family.  The  tunnel  which  child- 
[240] 


FIELD  MICE 

ish  curiosity  had  prompted  me  to  damage  was 
quickly  repaired  by  the  proud,  energetic  posses- 
sors of  the  four  little  pink  balls.  And  those 
little  mice !  In  a  surprisingly  brief  time  the 
little  eyes  opened  and  the  pink  bodies  became 
covered  with  soft  gray  coats  like  those  of  their 
parents.  They  came  forth  into  their  small 
world,  bounded  on  all  sides  with  wire.  But 
they  never  knew  the  limitations  of  their  home, 
having  never  known  any  other.  They  ran 
about  chasing  their  tails,  or  one  another,  and 
seemed  as  happy  as  though  whole  fields  of 
wheat  were  their  playground  and  home.  It 
was  better  for  them  here  because  they  were  free 
from  strife  and  free  from  dangers  that  make  the 
struggle  for  existence  so  hard  for  wild  animals. 
But  who  can  tell  that  there  was  not  an  inborn 
longing  for  independence  and  freedom?  Who 
can  say  that  freedom  from  cares  leads  to  better 
appreciation  of  opportunities  or  pleasures  ?  Cer- 
tain it  was  my  little  mice  never  encountered 
enemies  and  so  never  knew  the  joys  and  excite- 
ment of  escaping. 

As  time  wore  on  all  went  well  in  the  mouse- 
home.     The  newcomers  all  seemed  good-na- 

[HI] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

tured  and  lovable  with  each  other.  They  kept 
up  a  constant  chatter  with  each  other  and  only 
once  in  a  while,  for  a  minute  or  two,  would 
seem  in  a  disagreeable  frame  of  mind  when  more 
than  one  wished  the  same  choice  morsel  of  food. 
They  learned  to  eat  from  my  hand,  would  run 
up  my  sleeve  and  dart  back  again  at  any  sight 
or  sound.  When  fall  came  and  had  nearly 
gone  the  cage  with  its  contents  was  moved  from 
the  granary  to  the  house ;  an  injury  to  the  net- 
ting imposed  the  necessity  for  repairing  it  with 
a  piece  of  canvas.  My  mice  were  now  warm 
and  comfortable  in  their  new  quarters.  Their 
cousins  in  the  fields  were  quite  as  safe  beneath 
the  friendly  snow  which  shielded  them  both 
from  their  enemies  and  from  the  cold  wintry 
blasts.  Beneath  the  snow  they  now  tunneled. 
Many  were  the  little  snowy  paths  that  crossed 
and  recrossed  in  all  directions  made  by  the 
sociable  little  mice  as  they  ran  about  making 
calls  upon  their  neighbors  or  returning  visits 
made  them.  But  now  they  did  damage  as  well. 
Should  a  young  orchard  or  a  nursery  chance  to 
be  near  these  snowy  runways  the  roots  offered 
choice  meals  to  the  mice.  The  roots  of  trees 


FIELD  MICE 

and  trunks  of  bushes  and  shrubs  were  robbed 
of  their  bark  ;  in  the  spring  when  the  sap  flows 
the  trees  bleed  and  soon  die. 

One  night  as  I  was  about  to  retire  I  heard  a 
peculiar  little  squeak  and  rushed  at  once  to  the 
mouse-cage.  The  mice  were  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  I  shook  the  cage  which  had  always 
brought  them  from  their  burrows,  but  they  did 
not  appear.  Then  I  noticed  that  the  canvas 
which  I  had  used  to  patch  the  broken  wire  was 
eaten  away  and  at  last  my  pets  had  found  free- 
dom. I  looked  about  the  room  for  them  and 
as  I  did  so  saw  a  sight  that  shocked  me.  The 
family  cat  was  busy  munching  something. 
There  was  a  little  blood-stain  on  the  floor  and 
a  small  gray  tail  still  protruded  from  her  mouth. 
Was  it  Deacon,  or  Quaker,  or  both  ?  The 
only  answer  the  cat  gave  to  my  query  was  to 
finish  the  tail  and  walk  away  with  a  satisfied 
mew.  For  the  time  being  I  knew  not  whether 
both  or  but  one  of  my  little  mice  had  contrib- 
uted to  her  repast. 

A  few  days  passed  after  this  tragedy  when, 
one  night,  I  was  awakened  by  hearing  a  sweet 
little  shrill  song,  not  unlike  that  of  a  miniature 
[H3] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

canary.  I  listened  for  a  long  time  and  then  arose 
and  lit  a  light  to  search  for  the  stranger,  the 
hidden  songster.  The  song  ceased  when  I  be- 
gan to  move  about  and  I  had  my  trouble  for  my 
reward.  Night  after  night  I  was  serenaded  by 
this  mysterious  nocturnal  musician.  The  whole 
family  heard  it  and  joined  me  in  the  search  for 
its  source.  All  our  attempts  to  solve  the  mys- 
tery of  the  peculiar  sweet  strain  were  futile  until 
one  evening  I  went  to  take  my  hat  from  a  closet 
shelf  when  I  heard  the  same  shrill  little  song. 
Before  my  eyes  sat  dear  little  Quaker!  Her 
little  throat  was  actually  pouring  forth  the  sweet 
refrain.  I  called  out  in  my  surprise  and  then 
she  turned  and  fled.  She  had  made  a  nest  in 
my  rather  expensive  hat,  the  first  one  I  had  ever 
possessed  to  which  I  could  attach  much  value. 
But  Quaker  had  demonstrated  herself  a  singer. 
Whether  she  sang  through  grief  at  the  loss  of 
her  mate,  or  with  joy  at  being  freed  from  matri- 
monial bonds,  or  through  happiness  for  freedom, 
I  cannot  say.  She  was  recaptured  after  a  time 
but  while  I  had  her  she  never  sang  again.  I 
have  never  been  able  to  determine  whether  she 
lost  her  power  of  song  through  loss  of  liberty, 
[«44] 


FIELD  MICE 

or  because  she  was  lonely,  or  for  some  physio- 
logical reason;  it  is  only  certain  that  she  lost 
it. 

One  morning  I  found  Quaker  stiff  and  cold 
in  death.  I  remembered  how  she  had  damaged 
my  hat  and  this  may  have  chilled  my  love  for 
her  so  greatly  that  I  did  not  mourn  for  her  as 
perhaps  I  might.  She  had  come  into  my  life 
with  little  ways  and  given  me  some  little  insight 
into  the  value  of  small  things  useful  and  the 
need  to  rid  ourselves  of  small  things  harmful. 


[H5] 


ELLA  AND  THE   ROCKY  MOUN- 
TAIN GRASSHOPPERS 

ONE  could  see  for  miles  and  miles  over 
the  level  prairie  covered  with  bunches 
of  buffalo-grass,  clumps  of  sage-brush 
and  a  bunch  of  cactus  here  and  there,  with  not 
a  tree  or  a  house  in  sight.     These  were  the 
lonely  surroundings  of  a  little  girl  who  lived 
with  her  parents  on  a  farm  on  the  plains  of 
South  Dakota. 

Ella,  for  that  was  the  name  of  this  little 
western  girl,  lived  contented  and  happy  in  their 
sod  house  and  thought  it  a  very  nice  home;  it 
was  the  only  one  she  had  ever  known.  She 
had  no  brothers  or  sisters;  her  only  compan- 
ions, besides  her  mother  and  teacher,  were  the 
birds,  the  mammals  and  the  insects  which  she 
found  living  around  her. 

Ella  was  naturally  a  thoughtful  and  studious 
[246] 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

child.  Being  an  only  child  she  gradually  grew 
into  the  habit  of  listening  to  the  conversation 
of  her  elders  and  sharing  the  cares,  hardships 
and  disappointments  that  went  to  make  up  the 
life  of  the  frontier  farmer  as  he  battled  against 
grasshoppers,  drouth,  hot  winds  and  blizzards, 
in  what  so  often  seemed  a  vain  effort  to  eke 
out  a  living  and  secure  a  home. 

The  corn  which  her  father  had  planted  in 
the  spring  had  grown  higher  than  her  head. 
Ella  spent  many  pleasant  hours  wandering 
through  this  cool,  shady  field,  gathering  the 
silk  from  the  newly  forming  ears  of  corn  to 
braid  and  pin  on  the  head  of  her  rag-doll  for 
hair,  or  watching  the  little  beetles  that  chanced 
to  be  feeding  on  the  juicy  leaves  of  the  corn- 
stalks, or  the  useful  little  "lady-bird"  with  her 
modest-colored  calico  gown  eating  the  destruc- 
tive aphids;  while  the  timid  little  field-mouse 
with  his  soft  gray  fur  darted  noiselessly  behind 
a  corn-stalk  or  under  a  fallen  leaf  as  she  ap- 
proached. Sometimes  her  bolder  friend,  the 
striped  ground-squirrel,  alarmed  by  the  soft 
patter  of  her  little  bare  feet,  would  run  right  in 
front  of  her,  or  even  across  her  toes,  such  was 
[•47] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

his  haste  to  reach  his  underground  home  on 
the  edge  of  the  fields. 

The  golden  grain  in  the  adjoining  wheat- 
field  sheltered  her  from  the  burning  sun  as  she 
sat  and  watched  the  ground-squirrels  catch  the 
little  brown  grasshoppers,  so  near  the  color  of 
the  ground  that  she  could  hardly  see  them  un- 
less they  hopped ;  but  the  ground-squirrels  with 
their  sharp,  bead-like  eyes  never  missed  one. 
At  other  times  they  would  play  their  funny 
little  game  of  tag,  then  dart  into  their  holes  in 
the  ground,  or  come  near  to  her  for  the  corn 
she  generally  carried  in  the  pocket  of  her  ging- 
ham apron  with  which  to  feed  them. 

One  day  one  of  the  little  squirrels  ran  across 
her  lap  «,nd  put  his  nose  in  her  pocket  and  ate 
some  of  the  corn,  then  filled  the  fold  on  each 
side  of  his  cheeks  with  the  yellow  kernels  to 
store  away  in  his  home  for  the  cold  winter 
months  when  there  would  be  no  grasshoppers 
or  other  good  things  he  could  find  to  eat. 

This  confidence  from  her  four-footed  neigh- 
bors pleased  Ella  very  much,  but  she  never 
moved,  or  even  laughed,  for  fear  they  would 
all  scamper  away,  as  they  had  done  many  times 
CM] 


c  T^he  golden  grain  on  the  adjoining  wheat- 
fields  sheltered  her  from  the  burning  sun  as 
she  sat  and  watched  the  ground-squirrels" 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

when  the  lonely  little  girl,  without  a  playmate 
or  child  companion,  had  moved  about  and  tried 
to  have  them  play  with  her  and  her  doll. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  one 
of  the  last  days  in  July.  Ella  was  sitting  on  the 
ground  in  the  shade  of  the  corn-stalks  watch- 
ing a  pair  of  catbirds  feeding  grasshoppers  to 
their  young.  They  had  built  a  nest  in  a  plum- 
thicket  near  by.  Each  of  the  birds  by  turn 
taok  a  fat  grasshopper  in  its  stout  beak  and 
beat  it  against  the  ground  until  it  became  a  soft 
mass,  then  flew  to  the  edge  of  the  nest  and 
dropped  it  into  the  wide  open  mouth  of  one  of 
their  little  ones.  In  this  way,  in  company  with 
the  robins,  meadowlarks  and  other  birds  of 
the  plains,  they  destroy  large  numbers  of  grass- 
hoppers each  day. 

A  gray  cloud  seemed  to  pass  between  the 
sun  and  earth;  the  father  catbird,  thinking  the 
sunset  hour  was  approaching,  perched  on  a  twig 
near  the  nest  and  began  to  sing  one  of  his  sweet 
mimic  songs.  Ella's  father  and  two  of  his 
neighbors  were  cutting  the  golden  wheat  when 
they,  too,  noticed  the  approaching  gloom.  It 
grew  darker  and  darker.  Ella  became  frightened 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

and  ran  to  the  house  to  tell  her  mother  of  the 
storm-cloud,  leaving  her  sunbonnet  and  much 
loved  rag-doll  in  her  hurry  and  fear.  Her 
mother  with  a  troubled  face  explained  to  Ella 
that  it  was  not  a  wind  or  rain  cloud,  but  many 
millions  of  Rocky  Mountain  grasshoppers  in 
search  of  food.  The  little  girl  looked  at  them 
through  a  piece  of  smoked  glass  her  mother 
gave  her.  Her  mother  told  Ella  that  the  grass- 
hoppers had  come  from  the  states  of  Idaho  and 
Montana  and  were  traveling  toward  the  South 
and  East.  They  kept  moving  with  the  wind 
in  one  steady  stream  for  almost  an  hour.  It 
seemed  that  the  great  army  of  flying  insects 
never  would  come  to  an  end. 

Ella's  parents  watched  this  moving  mass  with 
much  fear,  for  they  knew  that  the  least  change 
of  wind  or  temperature  would  bring  the  entire 
horde  to  the  ground  and  in  a  few  hours  there 
would  not  be  so  much  as  a  blade  of  grass  left. 
The  child  and  her  parents  well  remembered  the 
year  before  in  the  early  part  of  August.  At 
night  when  they  went  to  bed  the  ripe  wheat 
bent  toward  the  ground  with  its  own  weight. 
The  corn-stalks  were  tall  and  heavy  laden  with 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

long  ears  of  sweet,  milky  corn  and  the  grass  in 
the  little  valley  near  the  creek  was  still  green 
and  tender.  In  the  morning  when  they  awoke 
all  was  changed ;  not  a  spear  of  wheat  was  left, 
only  the  yellow  straw  remained.  The  corn- 
stalks had  been  stripped  of  their  long,  green 
leaves  and  the  kernels  and  husks  were  either 
wholly  or  almost  eaten  from  the  cobs.  Not  a 
blade  of  grass  was  to  be  seen  on  their  farm  or 
upon  that  of  their  neighbor.  Myriads  of  the 
grasshoppers  that  were  flying  over,  not  liking 
the  sudden  change  in  the  temperature  that 
comes  as  a  rule  when  the  sun  goes  down  on 
the  plains,  alighted  for  the  night  and  devoured 
all  they  found  that  could  be  eaten  by  them. 
When  the  sun  rose  and  the  temperature 
changed,  the  wind  being  in  the  right  direction 
to  carry  them  on  their  regular  course,  they  be- 
gan to  rise;  first  a  few,  then  still  more  and 
more,  until  the  greater  part  of  the  many  mil- 
lions was  again  on  its  destructive  journey  to- 
wards the  south  as  far  as  Texas.  So  you  can 
understand  with  what  excited  interest  and  fear 
Ella  looked  through  her  piece  of  smoked  glass 
at  the  thousands  upon  thousands  of  wandering 
['53] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

grasshoppers  that  had  straggled  on  behind  the 
main  body  and  were  alighting  faster  and  faster, 
it  seemed  to  her,  into  her  fathers  fields  and 
even  invading  her  own  little  garden  that  she 
had  spent  so  many  hours  in  hoeing  and  weed- 
ing. They  fell  so  thick  under  the  wide  leather 
belt  of  the  harvester  that  Ella's  father  could 
not  cut  any  more  of  his  grain,  but  stood  help- 
less with  his  neighbors  watching  the  greedy  in- 
sects destroy  most  of  his  year's  work.  Ella 
feared  there  would  be  no  corn  or  grain  to  feed 
the  horses,  cattle  and  pigs  when  the  cold  winter 
should  come.  And  her  dear  little  lambs  that 
were  growing  to  be  big  woolly  sheep;  she 
could  never  see  them  starve !  No  never !  She 
was  sure  she  could  have  no  new  dress  or  warm 
coat  for  winter,  and  it  had  been  three  years 
since  she  had  had  a  new  winter  dress  or  coat. 
It  was  all  too  much,  and  the  poor  little  western 
girl  cried  herself  to  sleep. 

The  great  horde  of  grasshoppers  staid  on  the 
ground  the  remainder  of  that  day  and  night. 
The  following  morning  as  soon  as  the  hot  sun 
dried  away  the  heavy  dew  of  the  previous  night 
the  grasshoppers  began  to  rise,  much  to  the  re- 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

lief  of  the  discouraged  farmers.  Ella  and  her 
parents  stood  at  the  door  of  their  sod  house 
looking  and  talking  of  their  almost  completely 
ruined  fields.  With  sad  hearts  they  thought  of 
all  the  comforts  they  had  hoped  and  planned 
for  but  twenty-four  hours  previously,  and 
how,  without  thought  or  warning,  a  destructive 
enemy,  as  it  were,  had  dropped  before  them 
from  a  clear  sky.  The  sad  expression  on  their 
faces  changed  as  they  noticed  first  but  a  few  of 
the  grasshoppers  rise  into  the  air,  circle  around 
several  times,  then  slowly  ascend  facing  the 
wind.  Then  a  larger  number  followed  and  still 
larger  numbers  until  the  greater  part  of  the  de- 
structive army  was  again  on  the  wing  ;  they  rose 
so  high  that  they  appeared  to  the  naked  eye 
like  mere  specks  against  the  blue  sky ;  they  still 
continued  to  rise  until  lost  to  view.  Thus  they 
moved  on,  carried  by  the  wind,  only  to  alight 
in  new  fields  and  blast  the  hopes  of  other  un- 
fortunate farmers,  perhaps  many  miles  away. 
These  wandering  armies  have  been  known  to 
fly  as  far  as  two  hundred  miles  before  alighting 
for  rest  and  food. 

After  the  flying  robbers  had  disappeared  Ella 
[»5S] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

missed  her  doll  and  sunbonnet.  She  looked 
everywhere  and  at  last  she  remembered  she  had 
left  them  on  the  ground  where  they  lay  beside 
her  when  she  first  noticed  those  dreadful  grass- 
hoppers. She  went  to  look  and  found  them. 
The  grasshoppers  had  eaten  many  fine  holes  in 
the  covering  of  the  head  of  her  rag-doll ;  the 
penciled  eyes  and  mouth  that  her  mother  had 
taken  so  much  pains  to  mark  and  that  Ella 
loved  so  well  were  all  eaten  away.  The  pretty 
pink  dress  her  doll  wore,  made  from  pieces  left 
from  her  best  Sunday  gown  and  trimmed  with 
the  first  lace  she  had  ever  made,  was  covered 
with  holes  eaten  by  the  destructive  grasshoppers 
and  faded  to  a  dirty  white  by  the  heavy  dew  of 
the  night  before  and  the  hot  sun  of  the  morning. 
Her  sunbonnet  also  was  ruined.  Gathering  up 
the  hem  of  her  dress  Ella  tenderly  placed  her 
ruined  doll  and  bonnet  in  it  and  carried  them 
to  her  mother,  who  was  her  only  confidant  and 
true  companion. 

Ella's  mother  promised  to  make  her  a  new 

doll  and  bonnet,  so  she  ran  out  to  listen  to  the 

meadow-lark    singing    his    morning    song  and 

being  answered  by  his  mate.    In  the  sweet  song 

[256] 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

of  this  beautiful  lark  all  was  forgotten  and  Ella 
was  again  her  own  happy  self. 

Ella's  teacher  was  interested  in  the  study  of 
nature,  especially  the  insects,  and  spent  much 
of  her  spare  time  collecting  them,  learning  their 
ways  and  the  benefit  or  injury  they  do  to  man. 
Ella  generally  accompanied  her  and  shared  these 
studies  and  observations  as  best  she  could  with 
her  young  but  rapidly  developing  mind.  Nat- 
urally at  this  discouraging  time  much  of  their 
interest  was  centered  upon  the  study  of  the 
dreaded  grasshoppers  that  for  several  years  had 
laid  waste  all  vegetation,  often  depriving  the 
inhabitants  of  the  bare  necessities  of  life. 

One  day  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  Ella 
and  her  teacher  noticed  a  number  of  female 
grasshoppers  pushing  the  horny  plates  at  the 
lower  end  of  their  abdomen  into  the  ground. 
Upon  examination  they  found  the  insects  had 
deposited  in  these  openings  a  number  of  eggs 
fastened  together  with  a  sort  of  cement  into  a 
cylinder-shaped  mass.  When  this  was  com- 
pleted they  covered  the  spot  so  no  one  who 
had  not  witnessed  the  operation  would  suspect 
that  the  eggs  were  there.  The  favorite  locali- 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

ties  these  traveling  plunderers  select  in  which 
to  lay  their  eggs  are  in  low  places  upon  the 
loose  sandy  soil.  These  eggs  contain  the  un- 
developed lives  of  countless  millions  of  insects 
with  the  power  of  crushing  the  farmers'  hopes 
and  depriving  them  of  their  natural  rights,  the 
products  of  the  soil  they  till.  By  the  close  of 
the  following  month  the  grasshoppers  had  fin- 
ished their  life  history  and  those  of  them  that 
had  escaped  their  many  enemies  died  either  from 
mere  exhaustion  or  the  unfriendly  frost.  Many 
of  their  lifeless  bodies  were  found  and  eagerly 
picked  up  by  the  few  birds  that  remained  and 
the  little  mammals  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  following  spring,  during  the  month  of 
May,  on  a  bright,  warm  morning,  Ella  noticed 
the  ground  was  covered  with  little  red  hoppers 
and  more  seemed  to  be  pushing  their  way  up 
through  the  ground  everywhere.  They  were 
queer  little  things,  with  four  short  legs  and  two 
great  long  hind  legs  and  very  large  oblong 
eyes  and  a  pair  of  horns,  properly  known  as 
antennae,  growing  out  from  the  front  of  the 
head  between  the  eyes.  In  color  they  resem- 
bled the  reddish  soil  from  whence  they  came. 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

They  were  very  hungry  and  ate  the  grass  and 
other  vegetation,  clearing  the  ground  in  a  very 
short  time  of  every  living  plant. 

In  a  few  days  they  had  eaten  so  much  and 
grown  so  fat  that  they  were  obliged  to  cast  off 
their  old  skins  and  enter  upon  their  second 
stage  of  growth.  Their  color  was  now  of  a 
yellowish  gray,  mottled  with  black;  and  tiny 
wing-pads  began  to  grow.  In  a  short  time  Ella 
and  her  teacher  noticed  these  queer  little  insects 
had  again  grown  out  of  the  fit  and  color  of  their 
dress  and  were  changing  it  once  more,  this  time 
for  a  mottled  green,  with  the  wing-pads  consid- 
erably larger.  Twice  after  this  they  were  seen 
casting  off  the  old  dress  for  a  new  one;  the 
color  remained  about  the  same,  but  each  time 
the  wing-pads  were  larger  and  more  prominent. 
Now  the  insects  were  full  grown  and  became 
very  restless  and  discontented,  for  underneath 
the  wing-pads  were  folded  away  their  power  to 
travel  over  the  plains  to  new  fields  and  scenes. 
In  a  short  time  the  desire  grew  so  strong  that 
they  ceased  to  eat  and  crawled  up  the  side  of 
posts,  heavy  grass,  weed-stalks,  or,  in  fact,  any 
firm  object.  The  one  which  Ella  and  her 
[«59] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

teacher  watched  crawled  slowly  up  the  side  of  a 
board  on  the  corner  of  the  granary.  When  the 
"hopper"  was  several  feet  from  the  ground  it 
clutched  the  wood  firmly  with  the  claws  of  its 
hind  feet  which  were  drawn  up  under  its  body. 
Thus  it  hung  head  down,  with  its  long  antennae 
drawn  over  its  face,  motionless  as  though  dead. 
In  a  short  time,  the  body  between  the  wing- 
pads  began  to  swell.  Presently,  the  skin  split 
open  down  the  back,  from  the  middle  of  the 
head  to  the  base  of  the  abdomen.  "  It's  not 
dead;  it's  moving,"  whispered  Ella,  as  the  in- 
sect began  to  swell  about  the  head  and  upper 
part  of  the  body.  By  a  number  of  muscular 
contractions  the  new  head  was  slowly  pushed 
from  the  old  skin.  Now  the  animal  began  by 
hard  labor  to  push  the  old  skin,  with  its  empty 
eyes,  back  beneath  the  body;  next,  it  slowly 
drew  forth  the  new  feelers  and  front  legs  from 
their  old  casings ;  then,  by  other  seemingly  dif- 
ficult efforts,  the  new  wings  that  had  been  so 
carefully  folded  and  protected  while  growing, 
were  pulled  out.  They  had  been  developing 
from  the  very  moment  Ella  saw  the  funny  little 
red  "hopper"  push  its  head  out  of  the  ground 
[260] 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

until  now,  its  last  helpless  struggle  before  re- 
ceiving its  crowning  glory  —  two  pairs  of  wings. 
The  newly  freed  soft  front  legs  rapidly  stiffened 
as  it  clutched  the  board  on  which  it  hung  for 
support  and  presently,  with  what  strength  re- 
mained, the  animal  drew  out  the  long  hind  legs 
and  end  of  the  abdomen.  As  soon  as  this  was 
completed,  the  weak,  wet  insect  turned  round 
and  crawled  up  the  side  of  its  lately  cast-off 
skin.  Here  it  rested,  unfolded  and  became 
strong.  First,  the  crooked  legs  straightened; 
then  the  front  wings  unfolded  and  the  hind 
wings  straightened  out;  in  a  few  minutes  more 
both  pairs  of  wings  were  all  unfolded  and  hung 
down  limp  and  moist.  As  the  warm  sun  dried 
them  the  broad  hind  wings  folded  up  like  fans 
beneath  the  narrow  front  ones,  which  served  in 
the  same  way  as  the  end  sticks  of  a  lady's  fan. 
Thus  they  assumed  their  normal  position. 
During  the  above  described  struggle  for  a  new 
existence  the  insect  has  been  gradually  chang- 
ing in  color  to  fresh,  bright  browns  and  black 
on  the  body,  with  added  red  and  yellow  on  the 
wings.  All  this  wonderful  change  Ella  watched 
with  much  pleasure  and  interest.  It  took  less 
[261] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

than  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  During  this 
interesting  object-lesson  Ella  learned  through 
her  teacher  that  if  our  minds  are  rightly  trained 
we  can  be  benefited  and  learn  new  and  valuable 
lessons  even  through  our  seeming  enemies. 

For  several  years  Ella's  father  and  his  neigh- 
bors were  kept  poor  by  the  partial  destruction 
of  their  crops  by  the  grasshoppers,  but  this  year 
both  drouth  and  hot  winds  were  added,  laying 
waste  all  vegetation  for  miles  around.  The 
farmers  were  left  destitute  and  were  obliged  to 
call  upon  relatives  and  friends  in  the  East  for 
both  food  and  clothing. 

Ella's  father  secured  work  in  a  distant  county 
where  the  farmers  were  less  unfortunate,  leav- 
ing Ella  and  her  mother  alone  on  their  farm. 
They  were  expecting  a  letter  from  him  by  that 
day's  stage.  Ella,  with  her  sunbonnet  drawn 
over  her  face  to  shield  it  from  the  burning  sun, 
sat  by  the  roadside  and  listened  for  the  rattling 
noise  of  the  welcome  old  stage-coach.  As  it 
drew  near  she  rose  to  meet  the  driver  and  take 
the  mail-sack ;  for  their  house  served  as  the 
mail  distributing  point  for  the  widely  scattered 
neighbors. 

[262] 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

The  stage  carried  but  a  single  passenger,  a 
wealthy  old  bachelor  from  the  East,  who  had 
come  west  to  look  after  his  mortgages  and  land- 
interests.  When  the  stage  stopped  the  old  man 
climbed  out  to  stretch  his  legs  and  shake  the 
dust  of  travel  from  his  clothing,  while  the  driver 
fed  and  watered  his  horses.  He  looked  at  the 
little  girl  as  she  curiously  stared  at  him  from 
under  her  sunbonnet,  with  her  large  gray  eyes 
and  little  pinched  and  hungry  face. 

In  a  short  time  the  kind  face  and  friendly 
manner  of  the  old  man  won  Ella's  confidence 
and  before  she  really  knew  what  she  was  saying 
he  had  learned  all  about  her  home  and  her  own 
life — how  very  hungry  she  was  and  that  her 
mother  had  used  the  last  portion  of  corn-meal 
for  their  breakfast,  which  was  the  only  article  of 
food  they  had  tasted  for  some  days,  and  that 
there  was  no  fuel  with  which  to  cook  anything, 
not  even  cow-chips,  as  the  droppings  from  the 
cattle  are  called,  which  often  made  up  the  bulk 
of  fuel  during  these  years  of  privation  for  the 
plains  farmer.  She  had  secretly  hoped  that  her 
father  would  be  able  to  send  a  box  of  good 
things  to  eat  by  that  day's  stage,  but  the  driver 
[263] 


ALONG  FOUR-FOOTED  TRAILS 

had  assured  her  that  there  was  none  and  the 
little  girl  began  to  fear  there  might  not  even  be 
a  letter  for  them  in  the  mail-sack.  The  old 
man's  eyes  grew  moist  as  he  listened.  He 
went  back  to  the  stage  for  his  lunch-basket  and 
gave  it  to  Ella.  When  she  pushed  back  her  bon- 
net to  eat  one  of  the  sandwiches  the  old  man 
saw  a  resemblance  in  the  face  of  the  child  that 
took  him  back  many  years.  He  asked  the 
little  girl  her  name  and  if  her  mother  came 
from  New  York  City.  When  he  had  learned 
all  the  facts  which  the  child  had  repeatedly 
heard  her  parents  talk  over  concerning  their 
early  life  and  home,  the  old  man  clasped  her 
in  his  arms  and  whispered  in  a  husky  voice, 
"The  same!  the  same!"  Then  holding  her  at 
arm's  length,  he  said,  "  Dear  little  girl !  you  are 
the  very  picture  of  your  mother  when  she  was 
your  age.  I  am  her  eldest  brother,  your  Uncle 
John.  There  was  a  difference  of  opinion  when 
your  mother  married  your  father.  They  went 
west."  The  old  man  was  thinking  aloud  as 
the  little  girl  held  on  to  his  big  hand  as  she 
trotted  by  his  side  on  their  way  to  the  house. 
As  they  entered  the  home  the  little  girl  led  the 
[264] 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GRASSHOPPERS 

old  man  to  her  mother  saying,  "Our  prayer 
for  help  is  answered !  Here  is  our  own  Uncle 
John." 


[265] 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

BIOLOGY  LIBRARY 

TEL.  NO.  642-2531 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


NOV-6 


W 


/  :  6  1971 , 

1  1  1971  I  1 


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